I’m inspired by the possibilities of the future, by those who create, those whose voices float high, sparkling and fire hot as the family of stars they came from.
Today feels heavy, but hopeful as the blue skies I see outside my shelter windows.
A sense of hope with the prevailing thought of reality, flips, turns and folds.
I spent the night listening to too much Michael Stipe, now echoing in my body: everybody hurts.