Reflections

December 5, 2019

I keep a small, rusted key in a velvet pouch, though I have long since forgotten which door it once opened. It...

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December 5, 2019

There is a language that exists entirely without sound. It is the language of the bowed head, the folded hand, and the...

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December 3, 2019

I keep a small, silk ribbon in a cedar box, the color of a sunset that has long since faded into grey....

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