BEES - THE BALLROOM THIEVES Dewy grass. Sunset and large shadows. You look at your cousin. She’s used to the sight, but you’re in awe as you see tiny little specks of light coming out from trees and bushes and flowers. At seven, it seemed like magic that these creature with wings could glow. “Fireflies” you whisper, repeating what your mom had called them. She told you stories about these bugs, but you always thought she was lying. Your seven year old stands still, takes a deep breath and watches the beauty around her as the sun slowly disappears.

wHOa that’s beautiful like so deep....👏🏼