home, to me, is not a place
it’s a feeling, an energy, an ocean
a person
simple math
i asked him, “can you do this eleven more times?“
“do what eleven more times?”
“can you work and live in weird little apartments around the world, with me, eleven more times?”
it had been one month to the day that we left for our remote year. there are 12 months in a year. we have 11 to go.
light bulb.
he looked up. smiled.
“yes.“
this one’s for keith