this is where it begins, a blank. but unlike darkness, the most brilliant light. i see colors somewhere. the hand is rusty, my mind blown to go back, where i had sleep and my own thoughts. i mantained myself as good as any girl, i had a unique personality. this glass and its window throws reflections off it. i think i see the beginning of a ghost. there is something in me that feels the dead have something to say to me, a warning perhaps. i visited a birdlike woman today, mother of three fairy children. they flitted around me and my son. one spun, her hair moving in a wide arc. i watched my son's face. there are certain moments that you hope you will never forget.
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sometimes, i go back.