I walked two miles in the rain in a suit, my feet torn up by my father's shoes. Receipts and cards stumble out of my pockets to the floor of the station, I still don't have a wallet. Up a flight of stairs, to Harold Square, the umbrellas of New York take up too much air, so we'll just walk real slow, at double arms length in unison!

Azalea's Little Website

Construction in Progress!

Hi! If you're here right now, I'm very sorry but there's not much to do at the moment. I've got a patch of free time I can devote to getting this up and running, though!