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etch;

In these brackets of tired luminance I carve out miles-deep engravings of the story I have woven into my life, the fairytale silhouettes of damsels in distress and valiant silver knights and noble white steeds and ferocious terrifying dragons and cackling vile witches, and as I trace my fingers over these caricatures of my sprawling imagination, I find that I am picking up pieces of these characters as I go, that if I mixed them all together, I would have gotten me, imperfect and whole and true me.





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