#67

I wonder how your bed feels about a stranger (me) crashing without notice. I wonder how your pillows feel about an intruder (me) hugging them without asking them if I could [without asking you]. I wonder how your dogs feel about a visitor (me) asking you to hold them and keep them away because I'm afraid of them.

Your place. It's special.

It                      feels
        
            like

home.

***

Dear Zha,


Thank you for adopting me for a week. This is it (again)! Thank you for believing in me. I'll miss you heaps (like heaps-heaps)!


Xo,
Me

#43

Sometimes I imagine that we met in kindergarten and were inseparable ever since. That would be a great story to tell your kids (because I’m still not sure if I want any).

But we met four or five years ago, became friends two years after - when we were both chasing after the impossible.


Let’s not tell your children that.
 
*cross-posting because I find myself writing more stuff here instead of here*