the smell of sea-salt lingers on the wind, a memory tugs sort of painful but im grateful for it somehow. the bright white restless sand plucks my eyes and in the recesses i recall... the you that doesnt exist anymore smiling at me who doesnt exist, anymore. eight years of wisdom poured into a sweaty …
january 1st, 2024
Years ago, I stumbled across a blog called Nostalgia on 9th Avenue. Back then, I was attempting the quite impossible task of teaching myself Japanese, and while it was admirable, painting the sweaty attrition of my summer days with the black strokes of kanji, orderly, tilted just so, I learned barely a fraction of the …
dearly beloved
A gentle melody that nudges— awakens, a memory it wasn’t love then, not yet just a noncommittal thought that you would always be there. The tune was dusty, metallic a music box phantom from somewhere the ashes of ashes vibrating soft melancholy of a forgotten matter of fact. to the unconditional love between a child …
The-Bleu-Bivouac 