Blossoming starts on the inside ...

One day will come when the flowers you thought would never bloom, will bloom. The grief you thought would never end, will end. The time you thought would never pass, will pass. Life holds a simple secret: First, gratitude. Then, patience. And in the end, faith... ~ Rumi

“For a man who no longer has a homeland, writing becomes a place to live.” -Adorno

Love does not always or even often end in a landslide; it departs in grains of sand. It is a slow, quiet theft. The accumulation of words that landed wrong and were swallowed to keep the peace. You cannot point to the moment the cliff fell, only to the day you realized the sea had been eating at the base for twenty years. The tragedy is the asymmetry: one heart carries a ledger of many bruises, while the other remembers only a clear sky. By the time the distance is measured, the bracing has become the architecture. One cannot simply apologize for ten thousand tiny absences that the other person has already used to build their new, solitary life.