The sky melts into the sun, swirling into itself as peppermint touches the tongue. Tropical trees bend to touch sun before liquid colors blend into the chill.
It’s been my home for seven years. Not born, but one I chose for myself because I felt something. Here. Beneath the tree’s shadows, striping over green like candy canes lost in cartoon magic. Where forgotten lovers run into dusk and sea shells lay hidden in the sand.
Peace. Here it comes again as I stare out. Little boats speckling the horizon in the same way stars twinkle sky if only I were to look up. Worlds to discover in the spaces between the shards of orange. Such a small, beautiful time until black.