There’s something comforting in the sound slippers make when graced upon the foot of the beholder. Worn soles kiss at wooden floors – a muffled and gentle rhythm. Tha-dunk tha-dunk. The hall. Da-thunk Da-thunk. The stairs. A pattern of surety. Of life. Leather-worn workings, honest, familiar, home.
Gravity scares me. The way it exists with such confidence. It is. And it knows what it is. The way it pushes and pulls at my entire...
A new dawn stripes life across my skin. And with it rains dust, adding a layer of time through the breaking of drawn blinds. A new dawn,...
9:09. And I am suddenly taken back sixteen years to stained-white shutters, and a one-and-half story the sky is painted after. Like...
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