I have lived before, and imagined, and written, and been read - but when life is very hard, these things feel impossible to acknowledge or remember.
So I'm going back to basics - I find the trunk from under the bed and pick through old achievements, pictures, stories, fragments. I find my first prize-winning poem - a sonnet. I find demented drawings. I find shrines to people I've loved and friends I'll always call mine.
L x
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