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i step into our little room, staring into the orange haze, the soft wooden panels caressing the soles of my feet. the warmth of this light bounces off the darkness, penetrating some unseen pockets of collected time.
i look towards my little sister on her bed, dreaming, peaceful, young. my bed to the left, sheets rumpled, heavenly, inviting, infinite. to the decades-old lamp, tired and unwilling, offering what little security it could muster during the deepest hours of the night.
i feel safe and at peace with the universe. i am in love with this moment. and i think to myself how little time i have left before i will lose all of this.
and things will change as they do, and people will drift apart, and i will never be able to see myself in the same room again drowning in this intimity from the orange haze, the embracing darkness, the presence of family, the soft mattresses, profusion of pillows, the warm wooden floor, the holes on the ceiling, the floors, the walls, the windows, my heart.
i look towards my little sister on her bed, dreaming, peaceful, young. my bed to the left, sheets rumpled, heavenly, inviting, infinite. to the decades-old lamp, tired and unwilling, offering what little security it could muster during the deepest hours of the night.
i feel safe and at peace with the universe. i am in love with this moment. and i think to myself how little time i have left before i will lose all of this.
and things will change as they do, and people will drift apart, and i will never be able to see myself in the same room again drowning in this intimity from the orange haze, the embracing darkness, the presence of family, the soft mattresses, profusion of pillows, the warm wooden floor, the holes on the ceiling, the floors, the walls, the windows, my heart.