How is concentration possible when I am being flooded by expectations of storms by the individualists reaching breaching finding yet another piece?
Take me on your flight as I cannot remain on this earth any longer reminded of the new language I once knew in the land of Fae in the skies beyond forever.
A wavering ride and looking below, unable to remember the pricks of grass between the toes but memorizing the dance of stars around my neck.
I love the thought of you.
