January 30, 2010
The Curator
The only gift that ever mattered to me was something written, something that can capture the moment of how they felt and how it felt. Today, I read the cards you wrote me, not to suffer, but to feel. I keep these memories close and safe and preserved, although I did have them stained with a bit of saline.
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1 comment:
Hello, old friend. I forgot how much I loved your writing. It's good to have you back, k.
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