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  • Writer's picturewhit

CONTENT

Love isn't always as clear mountain tops in Spring or as romantic as the movies portray it.

It's as ever changing as jazz. It's as constant as death and taxes. It's right around the next corner.

Sometimes the love we love isn't our own love.  It's my siblings', my parents, and the kids. Or the far flung hope of you and me, but that's something I just get a kick out of.

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HOMECOMING

the sound of my dad’s guitar playing his favorite chords the typing of my mom’s fingers going through family records the smell of the ceramics studio full of the kiln, dust and glaze the running home

SUBTLE DIFFERENCES

it’s the little things they always say like how you listen more than you ever have before or how you stopped opening my car door like how you squeeze me tighter in our hugs or how you don’t answer me

LOOKING AWAY

I cant remember the last photo i took maybe it was a mountain maybe my niece maybe myself maybe you looking away no matter what it was it’s the last thing my lense has seen which means it means everyt

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