i am

feeling overwhelmed by comfort. by bare feet on the shelf below the table. by eating sticky peppered pierogis with my hands and licking a bit of salt off my thumb. by the quiet clicking of a keyboard. by the way white appears repeatedly in the same room in ten different shades. by the sound of a baby talking in the other room and a warm house in winter.

last night i dreamt i was telling someone that home is where you keep your leftovers and let the dishes stack up because there's nobody you need to impress.

and that's just not true. you should always wash your dishes, especially if you don't want bugs.