as no one ever has

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The ocean breeze
flows up the hills
rustling the leaves
bringing with it saltiness
that crusts my cheeks Continue reading

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connection, authenticity, vulnerability…oh my!

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I am a writer who lost my voice. What’s a writer with no voice? A tortured soul. An affliction. Like a swimmer who has lost a lung. A pianist who’s lost his hands. Like a singer whose vocal chords have been severed.

The craft was lost. The lifeline cut. The music silenced.

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