“Mourning is a winding path. Sometimes the walk is invigorating, and I feel fine. Then one word, one memory, and I trip and tumble to the ground. Pebbles of memory break through the skin of my palms. It hurts so much I can barely breathe.”
“Mourning is a winding path. Sometimes the walk is invigorating, and I feel fine. Then one word, one memory, and I trip and tumble to the ground. Pebbles of memory break through the skin of my palms. It hurts so much I can barely breathe.”
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