GAoodnight, summers and winters of my life.'nd I'll have to turn the page—close the book.
BCause soon he'll have to catch his flight
Aut only temporarily,
Ind then so close it feels like home
love Paul Auster like he loved Paris:
I'm in therapy, and I'm not looking for someone to replace that or fix me; I think I'm simply missing a safe, ordinary human space between sessions where difficult thoughts can exist without judgment.