
He loved that line. He loved it in the kind of way that you could tell really haunted him and that didn’t make sense to us yet.

I don’t get to do that anymore. And thank god. But wow, how strange it is to remember.

I am still just sitting right there, in the sunken California light, watching my toes dangle over my mother’s rose patch, feeling an intense sensation of loss for which I have no name.

It’s abrupt, intrusive, never asking if now would be a good time or if perhaps tomorrow you would be ready.
Spinning Visions was created as an ode to love, art, and other messy things that make my head spin. It is a space for documenting experience and exploring thought. It is also the thing that makes me lose all sense of time and place. You can click here to learn more.
It should also be noted that I probably shouldn’t be telling you half of what is on here, but that I don’t really know how not to.
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