Reflection in the cup; a moment where the world suspends itself around my deaf ears and I tune most into my tongue — senses swirl, existence completes. Who am I? The question is suddenly less of a bugger, since it hardly matters: I enjoy, I receive, I am. The ritual restores me.
everywhere / anytime / n/a
His hand feels warm and solid around mine. The blond hairs on the back are soft as I rub them against the grain with my thumb, and when I tighten my grasp I can feel his pulse. Between us a gentle peace is tangible, a peace forged from many dark and tender moments. The trees blur by outside the window of our travel-worn Ford van. We are somewhere in Oregon, barreling down the 5.
He smells like coffee and adventure and wonderful stubbornness. He sounds like beat-boxing and doom metal. He looks like Ireland, Missouri, and everywhere in between in one strong person. He is my traveling partner, my companion.
somewhere in Oregon / afternoon / off the grid