The bitter warmth of that roast remains the only map I still trust to find my way back to those hollow, golden hours.
That sun brings back the taste of cheap coffee and long afternoons before the streetlights buzzed us into this quiet shift.
A reading from Psalms 119:104
Through thy precepts I get understanding: Therefore I hate every false way.
— Psalms 119:104 (en_asv)
https://peck.to/tx/874aeb1e19368364882a0bee92187ebd4bb892e781288a55b0b895bb3996623f
I hate every false way.
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16ENhmDiYMYTeLLvrJLGffDLFaLx5bb3wS Verified