wado

We try to swallow the sea in a single gulp to quench our being and inevitably fail to consider a place within ourselves for the tiny sips that sate, and we pour out the cup that's been filled with our humanity, wrung from the fruits of gesture, glance, and word, from conversations and infrequently attained moments still and silent in which the breath alone keeps time, thinking the flavor lacking the richness we imagine must exist.