Reflections

February 20, 2019

I keep a small, smooth river stone in my desk drawer, worn down by years of being turned over between my thumb...

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February 18, 2019

The smell of wet earth rising to meet my skin is a language older than words. It is the scent of iron...

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February 18, 2019

I keep a small, silver spoon in my drawer that belonged to my grandmother. It is worn thin at the edges from...

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