Philly, how do I even begin to say goodbye?
you gave me thick skin
held each of my broken hearts
every. single. time.
stoked my fire and awakened each passion that made me who I am
surrounded me with kindred spirits
taught me who I am
loved me hard
grew me and saw me
s l o w l y b l o o m
In this small town city
If we do not grieve what we miss, we are not praising what we love. We are not praising the life we have been given in order to love. If we do not praise whom we miss, we ourselves are in some way dead. So grief and praise makes us alive.The Smell of Rain on Dust: Grief and Praise by Martín Prechtel