a childhood home.

I found a corner of my room that feels new and quiet.

Banjos fill my life alongside hissing radiators. They even play into my dreams some nights, waking me up to think they're playing just for me.

My skin is happy. My bones and my muscles and the myriad of mechanisms that get me around and allow me to play.

I know nothing and everything at the same time. Things feel soft and I smile. I leave the shades slightly open to watch the light flirt with the space inside.

No rules; only footsteps in the hall, sly eyes and bowls of water mixing with parched air to turn an otherwise dry room into a jungle.

Saying goodbye to this space and this house in a few months means letting it love me and loving it back right now.