The space I most fervently desire to work in doesn't exist, and so I'm building it for myself

In the reprieve at the end of a day, in the stillness of a late summer evening, the world sheds its categories, the insistence of its future, and is suspended solely in the lilt of its desire.

you have the agency at every moment to make something very loving happen

the trees remember you. the meadows, the gushing brooks. your presence, however momentary, becomes part of the land’s memory

on a clear day I can see you forever

all my life i’ve been apologising for carrying so much love. all my life I've been trying to contain its spill. no more

nothing is decided — everything is at stake — take your pick — claim whatever you want of this bejewelled future