Journey to Your Deepest Self

A Sense of Place

It is morning, the sun is shining, birds are calling and glinting dew is beaded along grass blades. Or, it is night, a moonless night, and stars are shining above the gardens, the neighborhoods, the beaches, the parking lots, the wars, the deceit, the lovers, the killers. In other words, You. Nothing changes anything. Because there is more than one way to read that, because of that time we drove in silence all the way to the ocean, because my shovel kills, because she hid herself at recess, because I got her back a day later, because he died on a motorcycle, because she’s afraid of flying, because he was always stuck in the crib, because she knocked it down, because there was a rip in her jeans at the knee, because that kid looked up into the face of the person holding his hand, because she saw it happen, because he sat there and said it, because the light changed, just then, because you quit, because I said so, because of time, because they listened to the tickling, chiming sound of the waves licking the beach, because everything that matters is here, now. In other words,...
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