I guess it’s weird when two college girls walk into a giant trampoline house populated mostly by 10-year-olds at birthday parties.
Scratch the girl part. I meant women. Grown-ass adult women.
I wonder who decided that adults don’t jump on trampolines.
That adults don’t fly.
And adults don’t dance with flowers.
Adults don’t really move. Or if they do, but they better be enduring it for the caloric expenditure, not enjoying it.
And adults don’t get lost.
Not hopelessly and beautifully lost.
Because if we kept jumping and flying and loosing ourselves, we might just get too good at it. And who knows if the world could survive that.