breeze

A breeze from the window curls around my arm and down my left leg. The last few days the air has been thick and humid, the lightness of this cool air takes me by suprise.

With the breeze, I remember something. The way home feels, and that for the last week or so I haven't been living as if I was home. I forgot that home is where I am now, that I already live here. I can inhabit this poor and patched self despite the fact that much of what I long for remains a shadowy image. I smile.

Shadows can't feel the breeze.