Writing

Walking through an art museum, 

reading all the signs, 

try to trace back the thought process, 

paid parking's outta time, 

leave with paintings stuck inside my head,  

Your new-ish house

your dog sleeping on the rug

my family and your family chatting comfortably

your kitchen with your hot chocolate

the fun spinny stools at the kitchen island

that's one of my happy places

i. So many people

Go through so much

And no one notices

Who are we?

We are humans.

We are life.

We are death.

We are what mends the bond to the earth,

and what breaks it.

We are complicated.

Inside us all is a soul,

Woah.

I've been busy.

I haven't posted for 5 months.

I haven't opened the site for 5 months.

I have a good reason.

I promise.

I shipped myself to a New England boarding school?

Every year, December comes around again,

Like an old friend, 

One who you haven’t seen in a long time.

For many people, December brings happiness, and warmth.