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They go home at night. ⠀

They go home at night. ⠀

They go home and make their place.

But first, they dance. They dance and sing and fly. ⠀

You and I can't fly, not really, but we can feel like we're flying. ⠀

We can, at night, before we go to bed, fly about inside our rooms, our beds, ourselves, each other.⠀

And so we do. We go home at night. ⠀

Home is each other. ⠀

Home is the sky, the birds, the hint of sunset burning the horizon in an orange glow. Home is each other and that orange glow that comes from eyes locked on eyes.

A bunch of essays, photos and thoughts by Pat Castaldo.