I've been coming home and getting busy cooking in the kitchen and then falling into bed wishing I had spent more time being productive and writing, designing, photographing -- some kind of creating. Then I realized that time in the kitchen is exactly that.
Suddenly it's fall again and the light coming through my window onto my bed is from a streetlight not the moon and my heart just feels so heavy.
There were great heaving tears but the beauty of it now is that, in the end, I still have myself.
Seeing someone give up their bus seat to an elderly person or a mother or a little kid is pretty much the easiest way to restore one's faith in humankind.
Who knew life got so much easier when you just let yourself be yourself?