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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() Grip the neck and adjust the pegs lightly, set the bow down diaphanously upon the strings. Trace your fingers
on the wooden shell - your wonderland forged from the last breaths of rotting tigers and magpies. Feel the melody rush through your hollowed heart, paint yourself in white marble, fingers dancing on the windpipe. Whirl in the guilt that slices your hands, too many cultured cuts to count. Adopt your ancestors, Vieuxtemps, Beethoven, waltz in a marinated stupor, the sunrise crumbles from your skin. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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