Gloryhole Swallow Faith |link| -

It was in a cracked tile bathroom at a truck stop off Interstate 9. A place that smells of bleach, stale cigarettes, and desperation. A place where the lights flicker like a dying heartbeat.

We spend our whole lives building walls. Drywall. Ego. Prejudice. Then we drill a single hole in them just to remind ourselves that we are not an island. gloryhole swallow faith

And that is the point.

Because in that moment, I have to make a choice. Do I bite? Do I run? Do I weaponize my fear? Or do I receive ? It was in a cracked tile bathroom at

This isn't about the act. It’s about the . We spend our whole lives building walls

You think faith is only found in stained glass and hymnals? Let me tell you where I found mine.