
My process is messy — my results are meaningful.
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Within the reeds, herons tiptoed like dancers in rehearsal Each movement balanced and alert Silence became part of their stage
Beetles carved trails into fallen birch logs, their movements patient and persistent, and decay became a slow choreography of renewal.
Just cooked up a big pot of homemade chili on this chilly evening. The perfect cozy meal to warm me up from the inside out.
The tide collapsed against the shore in white confessions, each wave erasing the footprints of my passing. I let it take them, knowing some traces are meant only to live as memory.