Teeth grinding, creating a soundtrack of what has happened here. A wase in a
corner of a window filled with water and no flowers. Five steps in the hallway of
a castle in Spain. I was born 23 years from now, where ignorance is bliss and it’s
enough to know people in person. Paraphrasing poets in endless loops of
inconsistancy, trying to make sense of my grandfather and why he was afraid of
water. Of why he took off. Of why he chose to make up new names for love and
aims for his kindness.
Being afraid of water doesn’t keep you from being a sailor. It only makes you
look away from the ocean.