As a child, I probably couldn’t explain why it was Pocahontas I held close to my heart, but growing up I constantly learn why.
My 21st Pocahontas surprise party is right up there amongst the best nights of my entire existence.
my beautiful Nakoma (perfect necklaces and fake tattoo made by my wonderful mother)
check check check it my John Smith dressed in blue too
An unfamiliar full
a delicate touch with ocean’s depth
deep, a soft black
but this void feels whole
I would like to stay in this darkness
but I am only one half
the choice is not wholly mine
nor am I handling what I have
and these in photos.
I’ve been blessed with many moments recently, these captured in words-
There is a beauty I cherish in going out for a late supper. The end of the day brings a certain intimacy between my company and I, and the trust to be with one another in a darkened environment seems to open internal doors. The quiet is healing, and there is comfort in having no activity to rush to, no stressing limit in time together. Although routine calls sometimes for bed, I willingly forgo and have never been disappointed.
The most beautiful talks are those crafted by honesty at night.
Considering my personal levels of excitement and despair, planning a holiday always has the potential for cardiac arrest. Whichever way the plans end up-
it could happen.
A paused breath to ease the uneasy, a slow heave to inhale the hush. Submitting lightly in preparation of a slightly dreary day.
Jemma was a wonderful start to my morning. Time to craft something delicious to coax my appetite into coming back.