Blurring

Work all day and up all night, petals falling from the sky like snow. Plants warm and dewy under my feet, mist hanging over the land. Full moon illuminating a glittering sea, rocked to sleep on a dock in gentle nighttime seas. Driving in the late-afternoon sun, music blaring, singing out the window, hair flying in the wind. Lightning flashing across the sky, warm rain pouring on moonlit skin, air thick like honey in the morning, hot, sticky, steam rising from the streets. Morning mist glittering in rays of forest sun burning off the fog. Reading aloud from old books, not sleeping, drinking tea, drinking wine, running, running at night, running in the rain, watching the world turn silver-blue. Slipping secretly into a calm morning ocean in the hot sun, running home dripping wet before anyone else rises. Looking for photographs, drinking in the magic. Friends and their talented music in the evenings, their intelligent photographs, watching them think, see, make.  Living and loving living and time slipping, slipping, blurring.

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Pictures from here.

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Shared breakfast on the way to the lake.

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A Friday at the oceanside. 

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Snapchat from a coworker. 

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Poetry and scheduling. 

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Pancakes and Portra. 

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Annelise one Saturday. 

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Serving drinks at fancy faculty dinners. 

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Hammock after rain. 

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Morning runs. 

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Star flowers.

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Desk surprises. 

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Matching dinner date. 

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