not many days pass before the flowers start to wilt. a dog, in the distance, mourns the day's death with a painful song. it's now that night begins to welcome itself into the world, and the crickets lurk out into the dark's embrace, like feathery arms reaching for comfort. and so we begin to learn who we are. no sun to blind us, we become two storytellers bound for where it all began. we listen for another bark or howl, a way to know that this really is real, this really is where it starts (this is a homecoming)
