Made to be birds

don’t you remember what it was like to swim the air, float on open sky, alight on branches and sing your wild heart out to dwell at night in the shadow of parent wings, the honey warmth of feather’s nurture? somewhere you began to give away the shelter,...

Everything’s a Story

On one hand I’ve always been the rule-following sort; on the other, I can’t stand being fenced in, and (at least internally) reject being limited, defined or told what I should care about and how. I’ve usually found joy in this subtle rebellion, in...

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