i write my best work when i'm home, under the canopy of a familiar palm tree stretching its leaves out to me, in the gentle caress of a warm, wrinkled hand cradling my cheek. here is where my mind is ever-giving, an endless spout of glittery, multi-coloured creativity; where dreams larger than life feel somehow reachable. i reach and jump now, wishing the tide would carry me there. wishing i could…