are gonna’ come back to you one by one
I find myself, 6 months older, adrift on a sea of suitcases, plane tickets, unfamiliar beds and lands and new ideas. It was as if I heard the sound of settling, and decided to turn and walk the other way. Now, a stranger in a familiar land, I attempt one moment to craft, articulate a future, and in the next simply to content myself with placing one foot solidly in front of the next. The future: solid like quicksand, clear as a san francisco summer. Old paths, footprints wiped clean. Whispers of new directions in the wind.
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