Every face you meet the cusp of a story.
Thousands exist in the bowels of the city.
Grief happens. It is passive.
Mourning a thing to be dealt with.
Oblivious you fall open the door feel the wind.
Walking into the ordinary terror of your life.
Thousands exist in the bowels of the city.
Grief happens. It is passive.
Mourning a thing to be dealt with.
Oblivious you fall open the door feel the wind.
Walking into the ordinary terror of your life.
Guts of grace.
---9 sept 2009
---9 sept 2009
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