Reflections

November 30, 2011

There is a silence that lives in the mountains, a weight that presses against the chest until you forget the rhythm of...

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November 30, 2011

In the quiet hours of the morning, before the city fully wakes, there is a peculiar weight to the air. It is...

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November 30, 2011

The taste of summer is always a little metallic, like the copper tang of a scraped knee or the dust that settles...

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