Writing things. Exciting.
Does a book of poetry saved on my phone work?
‘she rolls in along the coast like foam or a thin fog gone by mid morning’
You know, you talk to someone that doesn’t live in the same country as you. You talk about everything. Love, life, religion, the world, equality. There’s a sense of secrecy and maybe even a little bit of intimacy because it’s the kind of stuff you only share with this one person. And in that moment you feel more alive than you ever have before. You feel important because there’s someone listening to what you have to say. And then, there is this dark cloud lingering inside of you, because you know that this conversation is going to come to an end. You just know it. Because that person will have to go to work, or to sleep, or to run some errands. ‘Like foam or a thin fog gone by mid morning’.