I am still so much even as I am less and less.
As good a time as any to write the way I knew I would one day come back to, and start from.
There will always be time to dance from now on; it is that kind of season.
It’s not easy coming home.
Speaking about sunshine and the ocean and not speaking about either.
The goodbyes keep on coming.
On what has been and could still be.
On coming and going, and biding your time in the in-betweens.
On the stories we tell ourselves in order to live, and the ones we don't.
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