There is a place between sleeping and waking where everything feels possible. The Veil lives there. The Moon is the cup that doesn't demand anything. Warm, familiar, sweet with peanut butter and berries, the kind of coffee that feels like it has always been in the jar. The Spirit is the depth underneath. foundational, certain, the hills of Nariño speaking plainly through tamarind and molasses and dark chocolate. One illuminates. The other grounds. "Together they move through the thin place between the seen and the unseen. Intuition and depth, holding each other up." Let The Moon carry the mornings that ask nothing of you. The slow ones, the quiet ones, the ones that belong only to you. Save The Spirit for the mornings that do. Between the two of them, every kind of morning is accounted for.
