SIgh

It’s a hot night.Finding a place to live is taxing and we haven’t begun the process of moving in yet. Old memories start creeping in. I can’t sleep. I love hot nights. 

I write when I’m sad. I write when I feel like the only people who will listen to me are people who need to read what I write. People who are curious. Interested. 

 

 

I can’t write anymore than I already have.

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