Those Far-Off Shorelines | 12.7.20

I’ve no other way of saying this, as I’ve said it before and I will most likely say it again: I MISS THE WORLD. I miss seeing faces from different places, I miss accents and the way they roll out of a mouth, I miss the way my ears perk up and shift like a deer trying to pick out the words I recognize. I miss smells wafting down a strange street, foods I’ve never tried, steam from some gutter. I miss the sea, good gods I miss the sea, the way it lulls and entices, the depths calling like some siren buried in salt. I miss the storms that bound across a horizon, reaching for me with forked fingers and begging me to dance. I miss it, all of it, and I’m ready to see it again. Here’s to the hope, that I will.

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