Grace you’re so funny looking. You taste like salt and a runny nose. You make me queasy in my belly. Funny measure of glints and glimmers, late 6pm sunlight on my hobbit house wall. Life still breaths inside us despite the pressing limitations, the messiness. The barrage of I don’t want to have to deal…
Somehow I fall asleep, I wake and get to work at the exact moment I’m needed. I hear from Brooks and Erika, creative serendipity alive in their own separate lives. Their unspoken message, keep going. I hear from friends. This fucking news it breaks my heart. I look clients in the eye and know they are imperfect and battling themselves, and I love them so wholly I blink back tears that are really fear. I am going to Catalina for my birthday with my mom.
I stay in the fight. Exhausted. There is a creature called an orchid mantis so precise in its imitation of the flower that I stare, raptured, stunned by the image on the internet.
This thing we call, among other names, God? This mystery. It aligns in the most absurd ways. It is awful how far down it can take the heart on some days. I look anyway. Delirious, desirous mystery. I see you. That is all.