There are flowers exhaling what you one day will inhale after a laughter.

Or a heart break so big it’ll shatter you and then recollect you whole, and into a new kind of beautiful. And every single time that will happen, someone out there is writing a poem about it and calling it “a miracle”.

When you have some free time, and open the door for more than the person behind you, the smiles you receive will grow festivals in your heart. The kindness we sometimes find in strangers is probably why the sky is so colourful and alive at times.

There are books that reflect the colour of your eyes, how you move, every single inch of your skin, on rivers and mountains and gods. Gods.

Your being is sometimes written in a relation to gods.