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Letters, Telepathic wishes and phone calls
Santa Ana Winds
An excuse, a reason, an illusion
The passing of time
She braved the weather and found herself
One soundless moment
The junction of before and after
Feelings of an off grid drifter
In the night I searched for a solution
It was sad, but somehow inevitable
The exquisite art of longing
He made failure sound fascinating
Grief is a grind
It isn’t a slogan or solution to anything
And then, with no warning, everything changed.
