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There exists in this world a gesture of endearment that leaves lovers neither staggering with sensuality nor grinning stupidly in the wake of newfound couplishness. This gesture is not so intimate so that the public passersby may shake their heads in disgust, nor so bland so that one would have to strain their eyes to see it an act of any sentiment.. instead, it entirely is and belongs to a category of its own, when appreciated by the right people of the non-sexridden mind.

It is not a single action of physical nature that can be limited to a deep kiss or a passionate embrace, but is an act of unspoken language that can be universally heard, yet is understood by so few: such a heartbreaking group of few.




The 90+ degree weather SoCal has sweated through since the beginning of the week has fallen to a steaming 68 degrees Fahrenheit in no more than three or four days. This cloudy greyness creates such marvelous conditions for letting my favorite pair of headphones kiss my ears and sing to me the weepy ballads of indie-folk songwriters loud enough that I may slowly slip away from this noisy place.
Normally, I'd hold the cooler weather in higher esteem. Today, though, the clouds in the sky seem to be blocking more than just the sun, and the moisture in the air seems to be dampening more than just the atmosphere.


..and for some reason, this weather seems to be a painful reminder that although I still remember it exists, that at one time it made my heart soar,

I've already forgotten what that gesture of such tenderly exchanged affection felt like.