We never tangle perfectly—no such thing.
It takes two they say to tangle. By law, the latter manifests a perfect imperfection—and in love no thing is wrong because all moves toward a beautiful righteousness. There are days we creak, some we crack, others we go and we go on and on. Heat. No cares for gas and electric bills. The entire house transforms into our playground, something like a speedway—no restrictions, but every round is practice—most end in untamable laughter, involuntary exhales, untranslatable words.
HERE IN THIS SPACE YOU WILL ENCOUNTER MY STORY.
THERE YOU WILL FIND MY LIFE OF SURFACING → PURPLE CRAVINGS