They burst through the cracks of hell to rise up and epitomize the beauty of heaven. The rocks bolted through the ground into curious formations of burning colors and wild inspiration. Thank goodness such a treasure has been protected and guarded by the NPS. By granolas who see the majesty in such a place. The grandeur in a gorgeous spot that has granted joy, adventure, and healing for thousands of years.
the sound of my dad’s guitar playing his favorite chords the typing of my mom’s fingers going through family records the smell of the ceramics studio full of the kiln, dust and glaze the running home
it’s the little things they always say like how you listen more than you ever have before or how you stopped opening my car door like how you squeeze me tighter in our hugs or how you don’t answer me
I cant remember the last photo i took maybe it was a mountain maybe my niece maybe myself maybe you looking away no matter what it was it’s the last thing my lense has seen which means it means everyt