35 minutes here

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35 minutes. 
The time feels stolen. 
I am not producing or producting, studying or standing in line. 
I sit with caramel melting in my latte and Elgar’s cello concerto lifting my spirit from my chest. Edvard holds my butterfly soul captive in his conducting hands for a breath  before releasing it with a binding crescendo. 
There are traces of coffee foam at the corners of my mouth and I know I look tired. 
Last night I fought with my mom. 
Confronted feelings. 
Studied for my bio test till 1 in the morning. 
Now, in this stretching hour I get to be. write. sip. remain. 
I think I must return to these parts of my life more frequently. allow existence beside persistent progress. today there is room to be.

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