When I am at Fox Island, my feet will be coated in dirt, the mud in the cracks of my hands deepening.
When I am at Fox Island, I will listen to the Earth at night, memorize its lullabies so I can sing them later to myself.
When I am at Fox Island, I will smell of marshes and algae, go three days without brushing my hair, let my clothes grow less colorful.
When I am at Fox Island, I will sit quietly and feel a world without time, let the water carry the ash in my soul away with its tides.
When I am at Fox Island, I will rise with the sun, glow with the moon, and leave everything else behind.
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