in which i write when i should be sleeping

Silence comes sometimes when you don’t expect it. Sometimes it comes dropping slow, sometimes it comes running up behind you. I’ve been reading a lot lately and the silence is not something I expected. I’ve been thinking about trees lately how they stand so symbolically for life. Imagine the redwoods in California and all the history they’ve surmounted, how the world has changed and all they know is roots and leaves, undressing and dressing again.

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