It's that type of morning that you thought was night,
sitting around the campfire in the twilight, or riding on those back country roads in the moonlight. Nothing but our enthusiasm reaching a new height. Pinhole mornings-- Where you squint to see a glimmer, a hint, a spark of adventure. Yes! You say at three a.m. when nothing but the crickets sing, we talk about the possibilities tangled in our shoestrings and never worried about feeling reality's cold and adamant sting. Because right here, right now, these memories are King. Pinhole mornings-- Where we peel back the layers, the hesitations, the formality of freedom. We never expected the sun to rise or the night to end, everywhere we didn't look the world seemed to pretend; living without a care, never running out of our stipend. Heads and hands, running down the road as we set the trend. Pinhole mornings-- where night ends, before the conversations, and we live to be in the now.
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January 2022
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