Plans are for Fools

Mundane whispers of "I love you"
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

We grow older. Stronger.
Til death due us part.

Adventure Time.
I am his wingman. His is my househusband.

Not since 92 has an American won an individual gold in diving;

Theses Californians are already golden.
Ready.

To let go; DIVE.

Miami Metro Rail.

I try to challenge myself. The awkwardness of holding my iPhone in my left hand is almost unbearable.

I almost long for the days of flip phones. The simplicity. The uniqueness of having less. Where less is more.

Almost. This blog post wouldn't exist. Simplicity. And demand. Functionally. Curing boredom. A defense mechanism. Saving me from public transport.

Never daring to make eye contact with. Another. Risking a relief from my bowed head.
But each time I dare to look up from this phone. I see beauty. I see strength. I see love.

A shared smile between strangers.
A considerate passenger that offers his seat to a mother and child.
A father with baby&stroller that took the time to formally thank a solider before stepping off the rail. Not letting a fellow passenger leave their umbrella behind. Smiles. Thank yous. Smiles. Thank yous.

For guarding the doors to my soul. I've sacrificed the possibility of beauty slipping in.

Will I ever learn?