Was it in that moment looking at the morning sky, seeing the sunshine over the dirty rain clouds, cleansing their tops, renewing them?
Was it in that instance crossing the street, feeling the air so dry and crisp that there was no chance of tears?
Was it that day that the sunset looked like a firestorm of searing hues, like god himself had mixed the heavens with a blacksmith’s poker?
Or was it in that temporary silence at night, devoid of the familiar whispering expectations, finally content in the here and now?
I don’t know....
Seeing the new dampness on the streets in the morning, feeling a sadder chill in the air during the day, hearing the sound of a phone that never rings before bed every night.
I know that despite it all, hope crept past these crumbling walls.