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Cartoon by John F. Baker III

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Imagine meeting someone who wanted to learn your past, not punish you or judge you, but to understand how you needed to be loved.

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Bye

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my absolute favourite poem

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you stopped scrolling.

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when u start having a good convo and then u say something awkward/embarassing

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I am constantly asked why I left the island. But that’s the thing about home; you never really leave. My body no longer walks the beach, but I feel my toes in the sand and the waves hit my chest. I see the lush green trees in my sleep as I dream of the back roads that overlooked the deep blue ocean. That place where the colors were bright as the sun and the night filled with stars watched the music filled streets. I never left that place I call home.

The island dweller in an alien land (el-sol-oceanico)