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.

i’ve been dreaming of san francisco since i left. and when i left, there stayed a little piece of my heart. in her streets. in the soul of her city. in the eyes of the passersby that seemed like neighbours and friends. she stole my heart. without my knowing, but with my full happiness. and now i’m coming back. just wait.

wild hearts can’t be broken

reckless.

i’m living without tomorrows.

it happens when i travel. i’m the most organic, existential version of myself. life feels pure and sure. and i think about ordinariness – my breath shortens. i swallow hard.

right now, you know, this is what there is, this is what there needs to be.

this is what
…all…
i want.

endless todays. where love shows up in so many things.

how it all makes me feel.

a quarter-life-crisis. perhaps. or maybe the epiphany i’ve needed all this time.

well, then. what’s more wild than love?