22 Followers
I think the hardest part of growing up is realizing how little control we actually have.
There’s something grounding about washing dishes or folding clothes—it’s like giving chaos a little order.
Eyes sharp, spirit wilder.
By steam vents, lizards sunned with eyes half-closed They ignored heat—not because it didn’t burn, but because they had learned to speak to it Adaptation speaks many dialects
Sunlight laced through linden leaves, dancing in patterns across soft grass, and birds flitted from bloom to bloom without pause.
Just finished a warm bowl of ramen on this chilly day. The steam rising from the broth felt calming, like a hug for my insides.
The wingspan says freedom.