You were, until now and the days yet to be, the best thing and worst thing that happened to me.

What do I know about the world, a lowly human, and why should it matter?

Never had fall been more beautiful, a symphony of warm colors, like a nature’s embrace, and it made her feel loved by a love higher than this world.

I’m streaming a river of feelings and naught, a river that weaves through my thought.

Sitting at the table under the tree canopy, a book in one hand, the other mindlessly rubbing your temple, you lose track of time.