Drowning in the shallows…
I can still taste the remnants of my past life. They pierce my skin like fine splinters. They stick to me like tiny pieces of meat between my teeth.
I savor the bits. A beautiful aftertaste.
The American Dental Association recommends flossing a minimum of once per day.
I never floss.
Today I learned a new word.
A Welsh word that describes an intense feeling of homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, or for a home which may have never been.
I like the ambiguity.
Hearing the rolling syllables as they’re pronounced induces a feeling the word is meant to describe. A visceral yearning that can never be scrubbed clean. Spoken in the tongue of an ancient people who no longer exist.
Except that Wales still exists.
And so does Barcelona, asshole.
Flights are like three hundred bucks.