This Wasn’t The First Time We Met

August 7, 2017 1 min read

This Wasn’t The First Time We Met

August 7, 2017 1 min read

sophie-butcher

This wasn’t the first time we met, but the first I can remember.

We sat in her pastel print kitchen, inhaling the chocolate fudge cake her mum sets down on the light wooden table. Sunlight bores through the windows, bouncing off the white surfaces and floral trinkets. Her home always felt so much more, well, homely than mine.

To look at us, it’s our difference that are obvious. Her slight frame compared to my broad, tall one. Her dark eyes, skin and hair compared to my blue gaze and pale freckled complexion. Little and large, they called us.

Alone in her small bedroom at the end of the hall, we had weird and wonderful chats that can only stem from a child’s imagination; that only happen when it’s just the two of use.

Those talks, they’ve never stopped. They’re what we’re made of. I wouldn’t be alive without her.

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About Me

About Me

Hi! I'm Sophie.

Writer, thinker, often overwhelmed.I like to talk about film, feelings and feminism. Not necessarily in that order.

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  • Hot chocolate break with @mathew_curran before we hunt down more photo opportunities - and meatballs, obviously. 🇸🇪
  • My mum got me this lady cushion and I LOVE it
  • Gripping, poetic, and consistently lightbulb-inducing as it explores a world where women rise to power, I couldn’t get enough of this book. I haven’t read fiction in years, but this reminded me that I ought to, much more often.
  • From Icelandic winds to sunny Spanish rooftops; quite the climate change, but I’m not complaining ☀️ Swipe to see some of my favourite photos from Malaga so far, or I’ll be posting the full set over at @sophslens_ 📸
  • Some of my favourite snaps from Reykjavík round 2. We came back with sore feet, tired legs and much lighter pockets (Iceland is pricey, people!), as well as a friendship even more incredible than it was before we left. I adore you @hbensonx.
  • In Reykjavík, happy as Larry. (📸 @hbensonx)
  • I’ve been spending a lot of time here, because anywhere else feels a bit too scary at the moment. Who’d have thought that throwing your old life into the fire, and letting it burn up to create a new one, would have such lasting hurdles? Its a strange feeling to know that you wouldn’t want to go back, but sometimes wish that you could. I’m done with the pressure and the comparison of trying to replace what I’ve let go of. Solitude, it turns out, is the best thing for now. And this room, with its comfy bed and grey walls and light in all the right places, isn’t such a bad place to find it.
  • This little corner of my room is my favourite; a collection of memories I’m reclaiming as my own. 🌟 After a week of ups and downs I’m going on a solo cinema trip, because sitting in a dark room and not talking to anyone feels like a good choice right now. Hope you’re having a good Sunday 🌹
  • But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

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