Back in Boulder

Outside my apartment, there's a stream that runs to

downtown, with the mountains in the back, like a movie drop that

I feel honored to be apart of.

The stream reminds me of gnomes and lilacs and I want to sip mint tea

on the grass.

My Tay Tay Ross is here visiting. 

She's a force to be reckoned with. She is an explorer of the earth who nourishes me with her words and the strums of her mandolin. When it's not harnessed on her back, the jazzy instrument remains in a duck tapped holder, near her nap sack and running shoes. I admire this woman I grew up with with every part of my being. She understands me to my core and we have planned to some day own a eco-friendly farm house, with goats, organic products, and fresh kale. I'm looking forward to this simple lifestyle that I dream about in a community that follows their bliss and enjoys silence and simplicity. 

I'm in a place in my life where I'm seeing my friends as divine parts of me. Although this may have come in sporadic times during my childhood, it is only now, in my 22nd year, that I see these people as divine goddesses, or gods that have come into my journey for a reason. 

We listened to an old bearded man play harp and sing his lungs out downtown. Tay scribbled in her music theory journal and I soaked in the sun, wondering how someone with an opera-like voice ended up in torn sweatpants and cracked spectacles. His happiness was unaffected and a crowd of onlookers seemed entranced, as did I. 

I ate an artichoke for dinner It reminded me of my childhood. It's an art eating that vegetable. Tay seemed amused watching me, unfold that olive green leaves.

I don't want her to leave.  

I'm getting excited about this blog, and writing. It's been awhile.