It finds you and it takes you. Fills you up almost to implosion but soothes you to sleep like an ingested pill.You begin to hear whispers in your ear calibrating between sanity lines. Suddenly jolting back between the high and equilibrium of this new found twisted stability. Some people like tornadoes dancing under burned out stars kill a whole village, others stay barred basking in its glory. There’s another controlled group, some may even say a majority. This “last” charm of individuals keep it locked in together and all of their close friends. This, love, that some keep private is sanctioned by gods or deities, proven by the state, or instructed by Tori Spelling.
I had the joy of attending a fifties alternative styled wedding a few weeks ago that I witnessed blossom from its nesting egg. So surreal sitting in the rows of chairs under the summers blazon stare, Alongside the waters tract lines of Montréal. My friends, Jalene and Mandrew, I congrats to their obvious contagious love, the beautiful vegan ceremony, and all the wonderful alcohol consumed on your glorious day.
It’s strange, hazy after a few drinks, the sirens of each musical note my ear captures, nose tickled by each summoning bubble, looking past your round table of nightly friends. Each on their own path to love, whether it be destructive, constructive, painless, or for owns self you figure your own must be far off. That very week, which is also known as Danik’s birthday week, I received a gift from one of those distant smoking stars and suddenly like that, I was engaged, my own journey through the mudded fields of life and love.
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