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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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![]() Let’s pretend we’re sleeping on the ship’s deck chairs. We whisper, and imagine the evening growing colder. Above those tangerine cliffs in the distance, kissed to their heady blush by the sun, were clouds moving in shoals. The Chugach Mountains peak into the sky,
their snow capped crests make it appear as if a storm looms. And the sky, mixed with equal parts blue and a chorus of grays, streaked with silvers and golds. We stand against the railing, notebook and pen in hand, jotting down the movements. I grab your shoulder as the boat tilts and wavers gracefully with the current below. Both your hands stay folded upon the camera, going nowhere, calm and now almost invisible, as if they were the first to grasp the distance and dissolve. You press the button. A quick click and then lays it down, Your limbs earn a well deserved rest. You hold up your hand and my hand matches yours, making a noise loud enough to temporarily quiet the galing wind that refuses to let down. Tiny birds will soar adrift negotiating each wind shift, and there we stand wondering how a thing so small can fly against the wind at all. 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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