“Sometimes, when I haven’t slept or the news of the world, already bad, suddenly becomes much worse, the weight of belonging here is a heaviness I can’t shake.” — from Late Migrations (A Natural History of Love and loss) by Margaret Renkl, page 67

If only we were birds - you and I in this wide open sky -

then we might fly without anchors weighed on these tired feet, this detritus of daily life and shadows we can’t speak

Perhaps we’d bid the earth goodbye to find the point where horizons meet