When I Get Home

Once it was raining and it was cold. I was sad. Maybe not sad, but grieving. I don’t know why, but then again you don’t have to give a reason for grieving, do you? Grief has nothing but reasons. Tears were sitting in my chest, the weight of the sky heaving upon me. It was cold in my apartment. The sun never fully rose that day. I was under the weather. It was raining, which is increasingly rare in these parts. All in all, it was a wonderful day.

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This is where I experiment. This is where I learn to write.

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Carvell Wallace

Carvell Wallace

This is where I experiment. This is where I learn to write.

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