Some things are perfect, I guess.
Never having eaten steak and taking the minibús instead of walking on a Saturday morning.
Me. A seedling. In a circle with beads that are hugged by knots. Rachel. A shelter. Mikaela. A fire in my pocket.
Some things are just perfect I guess.
Like mopping to TSwift and being a father to daughters. Like ceremonies of cacao and glitter in pockets. And Sarah.
Mornings in the wooden bed. A window and bright little flowers on the sill. La Mariposa and Indian food under umbrellas in the grass. Eva Luna. And my own words.
The three falls. A sports bra and shorts. I can’t push you in, but I try anyway. Shoulders and short hair. A model smile and Fanta in my face.
Some things are just perfect I guess.
all my love, grace 