Happy one year to doing good and being on some new shit, to knowing everything when you were young, to the loud, shameless, mad women, to leaving out the side door, to going anywhere you want just not home, to being a mirrorball, to screaming in the weeds and long lost childhood friends, to living for the hope of it all, to all those wasted like their potential, to those godforsaken messes, to those finding their invisible strings, to the fact that there’s nothing like a mad woman, to those who get a single glimpse of relief, to those showing up at parties, to those that could never give peace, to those that only believe in faithless love, to those that escape to the lakes, to all the folklorians.