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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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![]() imaginary trains, the clack of the tracks like fingers picking at guitar strings. “i’ve been everywhere,” is a promise and a vow, a tale for every star and trail. pressing hands damp from summer drinks against dusty windows
--lemonade, virgin daiquiris, cold brew-- when we take the blue line down, stamps dotting postcards and pins pierced in the map that we traced on our skin. c o n s t e l l a t i o n s splayed out like multicolored bullets all tied up with a safety pin. the “travel time, four hours,” (who cares? as long as we get there) is drowned out by the drumming of boots and the people whacking their flurry-covered hats against the backs of seats. trying not to spill their hot cocoa and tea and it becomes a dream, the dream. spurred by the dreamers who want to find their roots, watch sunsets, who want to b r e a t h e free air, see cities, recognize skylines, hear new languages and taste the smokey pine of the mountains. the dream, created by people who would rearrange the country in a heartbeat to connect it with train tracks. 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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