A candle, lit early
i traced every calm season of my life back to the same five quiet minutes
A candle, lit early
A candle, lit early
The lines
I traced every calm season of my life back to the same five quiet minutes.
Every good stretch had a slow morning somewhere inside it. Not a perfect one. Just a slow one.
And every hard season, when I looked back, had lost it first. The mornings went, and then everything else did.
That's the only pattern I ever found. Five minutes at the start, and the rest of it follows.
3
frames
