buried and lost

quick piece

there was a moment while i was walking around a city in nicaragua.

i was holding a plastic bag filled with ice, thread wrapped around my ankle, a poorly-done tattoo stinging my foot.

in this moment, my feet sank into the concrete. i sank down, down until i was encased in the city’s stone. for once, i was breathing. finally, i was grounded.

i exhaled and i was still moving down the street. onlookers unaware that my body lay 10 meters back.

there was the time i did karaoke in the rain. the time i drank wine on a rooftop with strangers. the nights i’ve spent sweating, the mornings i’ve spent swimming. each time, the city keeps a thin layer of my body.

i will lose my form inside these places, besides these people. skin, blood, bones scattered across hundreds of miles. and yet, i’m understanding who i am more now than ever. maybe this is what they mean when they say you must let go to grow. i will keep shedding my skin until i am nothing but evidence.