sf.

there’s a pull. an indescribable emotive, gentle joyousness. a gathering of everything and nothing. of hopefulness and adventure and a taste of the unknowingness that makes this all worthwhile. san francisco. san fran-fucking-cisco.

it’s in hills and vistas and the golden gate bridge. it’s in coloured houses and one way streets and chinatown and parks of green. it’s in the eyes, they tell the stories, of the humans who suffer, sleep and die on the streets. it’s in city walls and city smiles and city smells at 4pm.

it’s in being anyone and everyone and being loved either way. i left the city, but i’m happy to be gone. happy to have known it a little while longer. and happy to know i’ll return again, to explore a million more versions of my ever-growing self.

julietta

i just had a wonderful conversation with a little girl. she’s three. she told me so with her fingers and thumb. we sat in a coffee shop that smells of rosemary and stories, giggling at each other.

a beautiful, little girl in a blue and white checkered dress, her brown hair pulled tight on top of her head where a frangipani peered through. her smile enormous, her eyes bright.

we played games with no words. and we laughed and laughed and laughed.