She didn’t come in phases like the moon or the tide. There was no rhythm to her, no rhyme or reason. She blustered into my life like the wind, sudden and sweet and something I never saw coming.
Photography by Abigail Saturday
She didn’t come in phases like the moon or the tide. There was no rhythm to her, no rhyme or reason. She blustered into my life like the wind, sudden and sweet and something I never saw coming.
Photography by Abigail Saturday