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My anchor, who keeps me grounded to my humanity with his simple ways. Let's plant our roots deep and reach out, even to places where the light can't reach. Stubborn in all the right ways. We hold it down for the city on the daily, exchange sleep to feed the hungry masses. I want you to know the rebel in me, but she doesn't hold a gun. Her battles are in the everyday grind, in preserving her passions and reconnecting back to community. In my mind, I am always writing love letters to you. Before you, before me, before you and me, bread existed. Food existed. Life passes me by when I don't have the time to comprehend how I feel about something.