Playgrounds In Geneva

Two light dabs into the blue, one in the green, another in the white. Stroke. Vary the pressure. Master the orientation. “Don’t over-mix, Jay,” he said quietly to himself. The canvas was about halfway done, but there’s still a lot missing. He placed the palette down on a wooden stool, the same one that he…

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Sunday Coffee

It’s a little busier than usual in here, but I still managed to find my nook at the back of Mark’s Cafe. It’s close to the maplewood bookshelf, where I find a gem full of Audre Lorde essays. I engage with each turned page, my coffee is hot but I take small sips. Awaken. Breathe….

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Journal: Permanent Ink

2018 has been nothing short of pivotal; it brought me to 25 and all its cliche of a quarter life crisis. I’ve been redefining what “love” means to me, finding and losing bits of it in people/places/things until I realized I had to build myself up. I’ve been staring stress directly in the eye, at…

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freedom feels

freedom feels like a cool summer night, being cradled by the warm, woven fabric of a hammock, secured in its hold with quick sips of a brisk wine cooler. it feels like the rush of a crisp, autumn breeze, grazing the skin of your fingers as you playfully lay a hand out the window of…

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Welcome (Back)

I spent one hour, twelve minutes and thirty-six seconds to figure out how to reintroduce myself to an audience that barely knows me. That is, until I just figured why not be as transparent as humanly possible. I missed writing for myself and for those who cared to read my words, but I didn’t know…

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