Many years of privilege. Some recent time away. The stillness of an oxytocin ocean after a many-months storm. The radiance of shadows in a love-worn nest. A one-thousand year friend that makes my heart weep with joy. Little birds who are also students. Plastic-forged mannequins who try very hard to be real. Yellow callouses on hale hands. Quiet evenings attending the sermons of angels. A whetstone of curiosity that cannot seem to crack. Pseudo-vocation festooned as the seriousness of play. Honeyed memories gently embittered by almonds and youth and pride. And again, the sanctity of sunburned freckles, with a charming gap-smile. The realization of having learned How To Want on my own. The occasional kind words of strangers. People can be so kind. So kind. I try to swallow down the gratitude that fills me from the inside, only to realize that the gratitude has swallowed me.
8:38 p.m. - 2019-11-28
Recent entries:
Thanking the Pandemonium - 2020-11-26
Simplicity of Sometimes - 2020-11-25
Bubblebeams - 2020-11-18
Red Blue Green Purple - 2020-11-11
Too Young to Descend - 2020-11-11
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