this morning #1917.

this morning, a warm, orange light washed over the backyard. made its way up onto the porch before continuing its crawl right up the side of the house. she sat out there admiring the sun’s slow stroll across the land & basking in its warmth. struck by the beauty of the colors it threw off as it made its way west. in the interest of full disclosure, she was super high. still was from last night. riding a wave of mushrooms & weed & a tiny bit of opium. solid state of bliss. no matter what shape the rest of the world’s in, there’s still this. this simple satisfaction is guaranteed at least once a day. unless the bastards arrest her & throw her in jail, this is the one thing that they’ll never be able to take away.