At the end of the day we huddle together. Not for lack of warmth or company but for solidarity. For the common and difference in us.
We have trod the same muddy paths of the day. We sat on rectangular desks in little cubicles in big office buildings that claim to shape the world for the better. But we also met on the roads less travelled of superhero moms and creatives.
I know your pain, just as you know mine. Intimate they are. It doesn’t matter that sometimes we are strangers on a train or our eyes melt into each other across the cold, lucid space that tries to force us apart as we pass each other on the street.
I may not know you but we are from the same tree. And we are standing here together.