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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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![]() The sun chose to rise today, how kind. Dampness always strikes my eyes when I’ve stayed past midnight, but at least I got more paint on the canvas during those gentle hours. Or is it because I woke up after the birds have sung their sun anthem—-- missing it is always such a loss. Mother’s breakfast, steamed buns now for three days in a row, but always soft as rolls of endless cotton with pale sunrises. I am grateful for how gently the sweetness fills me and my stomach.
The clouds--
puffs of white and light pink and dusty yellow-- like splintered daffodils. Barely able to use their wooly fuzz to blend the gracious Sun. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
May 2023
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