I'm still a transient. This time however, my words cease to ebb in retrospect. Perspective aside, history becomes an undertone, a hue in the palette of shared contexts. Today, I write to paint the future in words I could say I believe in. My heart has grown to a massive swell and love, as always, spills over in torrents. From this heart, I spill over; ghostlike and impermanent. What once was shall be again, formless and unending. Today, I love again.
Light spreads a certain way in this office. Present but never intrusive, I've been spending my days under the blanket of softer lights. I'm new here, new to the thought but old in practice. So much has gone by in ways better meant if not, never said. I won't try to compensate. I've been lying to myself about my relationship with this journal and this is a matter that needs to be addressed.
Good evening, everyone. My name is Francis Maria and I don't want to miss you anymore.
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