The dark gray to the small of my back holds firm as I curl my legs into the baggy stomach of the sweatshirt. The water teases my ears below. Lapping, swirling, grasping on this rock- one holding so completely confident of its own strength, the unending current simply fades.
Headspace is foggy, but I'm turning to the geese catching up overhead along the soft flow of the evening tide. The breeze pricks my legs and reminds me to stay awake. You still have so many people to talk to- remember? Do you think this goose is lost? Does he turn between the mountains frightened? Scared they may lose the one thing that felt like home. A train skates across this placid blue/green mix.
Talking to people feels like home.
I'm wondering if it is.
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