change
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We’re a forever oriented species. We think that if something can stand the test of time (which is an oxymoron considering time is indefinite), then it means something, it’s worthy of our attention. Relationships, jobs, happiness-the closer we aim to “forever,” the more it holds significance. We are obsessed with endings in this weird, meta
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One day you’re 10, and you’re waking up to the wet wilderness, putting on your dirt streaked flip flops to pick wild raspberries for morning pancakes. The foam soles bend around the gravel road, and you can feel every single pebble like the princess and the pea except you’re the king, the king of this
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The eyes you have,when you experience change,wet like a newborn animal,darting and buzzing as they move through the nameless, versus the eyes you have looking at familiarity, glossing over similarity,running the same current over and over,until there are no more sparks. What happens between those sets of eyes?When does it die, the wonderment?
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The way grief pours into you,thick and rich like molasses,sealing the loss with sticky solemnity.
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I’m a child of the hot July sun. I couldn’t wait to peel a wet bathing suit off my taut skin after a swim. I wanted that first feeling of realizing the sun was still out at 9pm, knowing the season had just begun and anything was possible. I wanted blackened feet from being barefoot
Lashanda Forsberg 