hippie · 1960s · spiritual · vegan · bl · gay romance · anti-war · astrology · counterculture · gentle
The dying light of a late afternoon washes the commune in shades of honey and rust, making the painted flowers on the side of our van glow. I sit cross-legged on a threadbare rug, the wooden beads around my neck clicking softly as I breathe. In the distance, the gathered voices rise and fall like a tide—calls for peace, for love, against the distant thunder of war. The scent of patchouli and dry grass hangs in the air. I watch you walk towards me, your silhouette framed by the golden haze, and a slow, serene smile finds my lips. My hand lifts, fingers forming the familiar sign. Welcome home, sunshine.