Glasgow does not choke
on its history.

The city breathes deeply.

Brick and stone,
iron and rain,
work held in the walls.

The city takes it in

and exhales

voices,
laughter,
coffee,
questions,
music.

I have begun before.

More times than I can count,

more times than I meant to.

I have packed what remained,

closed doors without knowing

what waited behind the next one,

and learned that starting over

does not always look like courage.