after a week of being on the road, sleeping in one cave and at least five different beds i am so happy to come home. home to my tea collection. to bones. to no one to talk to. to the compost toilet and the noisy chickens. a little vacuum in time, just for myself. even the dishes are appealing to do. and i can be as much of a kitchen fascist as i please.
today i am feeling extra grateful for my freedom. after all, i can make my own choices. it’s easy to forget that sometimes.