It's hard to feel privileged when everything moves around in chaos and speaks in yet unrevealed languages. It's raining outside and the pavement doesn't make a single sound when you step on it. You don't know where you want to go, but then again, it's a blessing to be on the road.
You're infinitely far, infinitely misunderstood, infinitely breaking down, infinitely putting yourself back together. Slowly. You touch. You walk away. You speak. You shiver. You pick. You take. You watch.
It's such a privilege to love and deny.