Letting go is such a lengthy process. There are so many layers; each one stickier and more strongly rooted than the the previous. As I sit pressed against the window pane, my chin raised to the sun leaking in, my eyes closed in its light, the colours deepening and swelling against one another, fluidly red, orange, pink, white, amber, red, violet…..it suddenly makes sense. Feelings are like the colours of strong, warm light. Each one barely distinguishable from the next until it is nearly transformed into what follows. Hindsight knows us better. The heart needs space to echo. Our own comfort, within ourselves, is the only thing that can provide that space. We are vast and open canyons painted with light, dipped in shadow, and ripe for the reverberations of tempered beats slipping into the sun to be lost like forgotten sighs ready to be born again as new breath.