Longing for home

Like passing through the atmosphere and trying to see outside the plane, but it’s hard to make out anything below or know when we’re going to land.

I wonder why the wind

The most perfect night. Perfect is a superlative, so it can’t be topped. There’s no “more perfect,” or most perfect, it’s fine on its own, it’s perfect. The first really warm day when everything takes on a different feel. The… Read More ›