I had the small version once.
Sold it to pay rent.
Survival took style.
But this one, the large one, is the DREAM BAG.
Soft, black like a whisper.
I’m not calling it a goal.
I’m calling it a memory that wants to return.
The version of me that carries it again…
doesn’t owe the world her closet to survive.
She just walks and holds the thread.
