…should always look like this.
And I am working on making that happen.
Change is afoot, Friends.
(As though anything else were possible. As though anything golden could stay, when, really, not even the leaves.)
Not even the leaves, Friends, which are flying and crunching and piling and becoming something else entirely.
Except I will call my leaves “ojas,” because in Spanish that also means sheets of paper.
Pages and pages, Friends.