an impossible horizon
ghosts, grief and hope at maximum tilt
ghosts, grief and hope at maximum tilt
My five-year-old, Brontë, has her first bad cold of the season. She kind of reminds me of a grumpy gnome when she’s sick. But this particular sickness kept her from twirling outside in the first snow of the season. So she’s been in a mood that feels a...
falling leaves and falling bombs
Choose what is divine
but only by one measure
Why was I feeling God in this Eras Tour?