“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.”
~ Anais Nin
I am that person standing in a crowded place, disrupting people who are fortunate enough to know where they are going. I do not. I wait for answers that do not come, and I will continue to wait…
I don’t know when I will move again from this place that’s captured me, and I am not sure who will be waiting for me after this storm has cleared. Damaged goods are hard to fix, depending on what is left to salvage.