Everything.

I’ve always admired Ernest Hemingway. Keep it simple and stupid he once said, asked about writing. His descriptive and still newspaper-like style kept me chained to every line of his books I’ve read so far. I went on a short trip to Amsterdam last week. I could hear the waves brush against the bridges. I watched the people: whites, blacks, you and me – enjoying every breath. I sat down on a nearby bench and started to see.

You see everything
You see everything
You see every part
You see all my light
And you love my dark
You dig everything
Of which I’m ashamed
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

I believe.