10 Aug 2022

We begin late, because we always have. We were never early. More often we catch the sunset, not the sunrise. Not on time, but sprinting through the doors as they close. Finding god in a small box or a painted veil: the storm rolls in and we know what to do.

During a sunset over two large rocky cliffs, a man stands against a wooden fence and a woman reads a book while lying on a bright orange blanket.

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