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how can I expect the city to show me its true colors

when I can't even be honest before the city

I must be afraid of falling apart

Softly treading

worn paths -written in Taiwan 1/2023

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To be water

My grandfather wakes up at the break of dawn and rides his moped to the community center, where he swims laps daily at the age of 80. I can imagine his body immersed in the water, gliding like a fish


I want to tell you a secret I write perhaps one page in a year, maybe less I don't know the cadence of my life except that there is an ebb and flow and I don't know what comes up at shore, or when lan


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