Probably

För man får inte tänka så.

Early morning on the South Island, June sunlight and everything is only beginning. Make my way west, a nation built around coffee culture and the refills are free, the sunshine is hard earned. A familiar face across the table, she beams and cries in the same breath, how life doesn’t stop to wait for you to catch up, and her belly grows through its heartache. I walked up to the top of the mountain later, with the city spreading out below and tourists navigating the narrow strait. It was home once, yes, it still sits in you like a cornerstone, like a sweet memory with the sharp edges scuffed off, life doesn’t give you anything pure, this brick was hard earned too: you do not have to let it go.

It still sits crooked in my gut, I do not quite recognize my reflection in its mirrors.

I do not have the answer to this riddle, yet.