and it only cost me 3 dollars to park.

My jeans smell like the ocean, and my feet are roughed up from walking in sand and snakeskin all day. The shoes I bought my first week or so back in NYC. The ones that could feed three starving children somewhere in the world. The ones that made me realize when I bought them that my life and my decisions were again and unexpectedly my own in some funny shallow way have had sand in them all day. I would have thrown them in the dark water for 10 more minutes of standing there.

Walking through the airport I was nervous in a way I haven't been since I don't know... and smiled like I meant it from the top of the escalator. I remembered to breathe.

I haven't slept in days between the travel, the stress, and now the little and fucking huge distractions of paths both possible and impossible... and I keep taking deep breaths.

Landry, ever my devilangel, sits on my shoulder whispering in my ear.