The in-between can be terrifying. Or it can be a quite marvellous space.
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It was bliss. Everything after that was quietly measured against how close to, or far from, that feeling it might take me. What was it? Where did it come from, where did it go, and how do I find it again?
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Feeling out of the step with the world is an uncomfortable thing.
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It’s not just the birds I know
singing from places I recognise,
landmarks I chart and check by sound—