they'll name a city after us

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being back home feels a lot like crawling back into a cocoon you left a long time ago. it is a place where time seems to stand still or at least goes a little slower, it is that castle on the cliffs that will always stand there, no matter how hard the waves are crashing, trying to bring it down to the ocean bed.

there is the garden alcove that I spent most summer nights in, reading a thousand pages, falling asleep seduced by the rich air that always smelled of orange blossom and lavender and then waking up in the morning from the scent of coffee someone made, tiptapping my way into the house for breakfasts of blueberry porridge with french chansons playing and little love notes on the table that my dad writes to my mother until today.