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texas.

February 19, 2017

There are shifts. There are new spaces that feel important, sensations that soothe my frazzled synapses, textures that never before felt like my own. There are sounds-- birds that screech before a storm, the gentle hum of the washing machine-- that are part of the rhythm here. 

You are home,

You are home,

You are home,

They say. 

And little by little,

day by day,

I start to believe them

← in the eye of the hurricane. on the sixth day. →

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