love me some distress brushes
I want summer. That's my grandaddy's house. Who we call Da. I love it muchly. I love it alot in summer, I found this picture and it reminded me how much. It's funny how somewhere can hold so much joy and so much pain at the same time. I felt the same when I went to the Mumbles with Frost. Everything about the Mumbles is "us", us as a family. We're eating chips along the front, playing on the penny machines in the arcade, sitting excitedly in Joe's. The smell, the sounds, the feel. Everything about it is Nye and us. Everything about it is pain and loss, and passion and love. It's the paradox of life, right?
"We all come with our own sense of strength, our own queendom. Her's don't compare to mine, and mine could never compare to her's, but we're still strong."
I just heard that. And kinda liked it. I'm not so sure what strength is, or queendom. And most days i'm not even so sure my God is there anymore. But I suppose that is the paradox of faith, right? We trust it, even if we don't feel it. And maybe... even if we don't feel we're trusting it. But I cling to the fact it's not a question of my feelings, or emotions. I cling to the fact that it isn't dependant on understanding or enjoying. It just is what it is. And I choose to hold to it. I'm not a happy clappy christian. I don't even like the term "Christian". I'm not somebody who over spiritualises things. Or over thinks things. I'm not somebody that doesn't feel pain, or would expect somebody else to not feel pain because of what they choose to believe. I feel like these things need to be clarified.
This is where the "seriousness" ends ;)