My bedroom is packed into boxes and spread across the basement so I slept in the upstairs attic bedroom last night with the windows wide open. At 3 am the sky broke into that deep barreling thunder slamming rain so hard against the top of the old, wavy window glass I thought it would burst. And if I didn't have a full day ahead of me I would turn my sound machine to high and slip back down into sleep where everything is only an echo.

That space between minimalism and I need to see and feel every texture of my life is a novelty to me. Mostly because I live on its ends. Some days I need a blank palette to grow into, gathering new ideas and curiosities stretching my heart that can build for years. And then it's time. Not to erase what I cultivated but to understand how to carry it with me onto a new canvas taking shape.

I'm laying in the hammock and the sun just turned the sky into a gorgeous ceremony of darkness. It was loud but the handoff was silent.