these fickle things like light bulbs don't warm me; bring me my sun.
The weather's been nice, but it has also been gloomy, all on days and times that I least expect. I've woken up to the rays of sun passing first through the skylight above my bed -which I keep open so that I might watch the stars before I sleep if it's a clear night- before hitting my barely opened eyes in a flood of bright; and I've had dinner by cold windows where I took the photos above.
But it's not so much the weather as my insides that have been cold.
(Yet, now, as I find myself here, I don't really want to tell those stories, those that don't serve me, anymore.)
Warm up again, love. Everything's fine as they are and everyone's growing.