Sorrow looks and feels like a bunch of old, dried-up leaves
and wild flowers in a huge marble garden. Brown, brittle,
dusty, unattractive, maybe a little sticky and mossy. No
matter how carefully or gently you handle it, it’ll
crumble beneath your fingertips, leaving powdery uneven
residue on your palms you’ll feel like stays with you
for days despite completely washing it all off. It tastes
like cotton and smells like my childhood perfume. It sounds
like an airplane descending to the ground - you know
you’re safe and you’ll land, but the sound makes
your stomach clench and drop anyway.
— Sade Andria
Zabala
