so here’s hoping the next one isn’t at all like the last, my dear. maybe we’ll just be familiar strangers in a crowd when autumn wakes once more. or perhaps we will have uncovered some long-forgotten mutual beauty. neither you nor I could possibly guess. but that’s the wonderful part about another 365, isn’t it? a whole hidden world lies before our fingertips, just waiting for us to dig it out. so we dig and keep digging and change with the seasons. who will you, I, that raw and bruised we, be when there’s dirt under our nails and sweat in our eyes? I can only ask for patience and grace as we begin that toiling.
(after a year and a half, hi Tumblr! obviously feeling pretty angsty today, so I’m visiting.)