Image by Maisara Baroud Christmas tree. Wine night. A beach bathed in light. Rubble. A new niece. A baby of ash. Tap tap tap. The new...

We spent the morning surfing. Riding the green waves and falling into the crashing foam. Fall down, get back up, fall down, get back up....

Home is where the heart is, but my heart beats inside my chest. Closed in by four walls of bone and blood and sinew. My chest is in Vang...

If I had a penny for every time I've started a new diary, a new blog, restarted and old blog... I haven't kept track but I know it would...