Tag: compassion


All the Things We Are Not

we are not
The space between my hip and my rib where my skin slides in, just a bit, not as much as it used to. In that space, still, there is an absence of me. A pause in the music, a beat, an expected thing. Anticipation and hesitation. In that moment, there is an absence of fulfillment. A young girl verbalizing everything she sees, calling out flowers, a makeshift chain swing, and a discarded cigarette butt that has something feathery at the end. “The filter,” says her father. In that observation, there is an absence of fear. A faceless man, his back turned [...] Continue reading
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