The moon.
I’m watching it past the towers in my mind.
The way the window unit is cold against my skin.
A reminder of danger.
There is no safety up here.
Just a long fall-down.
A journey with occasional re-calculating. The story of a professor with more heart than a month full of valentines days. An old soul who plays pick-up sticks with pencils. Come see who I am, where I am going, and guide me where to visit next.
Suitcase heart traveler going places and spaces to believe in love and hope again
