You stick your hand out the window

[a_glaciered_sun]

of a moving car, and the breeze blows against your palm. You move it every direction you can think of, and drink in the sensation on your skin.

We are reminded that we will grow one day, big and strong and as impervious as stone castles; metaphorical motes, with figurative crocodiles and proverbial bridges we will build to let the selective few

Comments

[a_glaciered_sun]

I love you.