Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
Natalie we could make this kind of tree this year!
"At the beginning of each evening I was nervous and shy, worried that I had nothing to contribute to the group, but then I'd settle into my skin and my voice. By midnight, I would be part of things, ready to drink like a sailor and talk until morning. It was like being born over each night, the same process repeated, finding myself, losing myself, finding myself again." - The Paris Wife