Oct 18, 2020
I miss the old house on stormy nights. The sweet scent of the candles, the salt of the ocean and the rush of the rain, I can almost still smell now. The roar of the fireplace and the crashing wind against the windows, and your voice, murmuring things you remembered like you could still see it in front of you a hundred years later. Like I remember you now, a lifetime away. I miss that voice, Barnabas. I hope your stormy nights are less terrible to face these days. -W.L. #🖼⛼🕯