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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 etchings on the sloped ceiling feel a little lower today, they wade above, looming like a dejected tapestry― shrouding me, from whatever waits beyond the two doors. I hear the first click, then wood sliding against a dusty carpet, a second click, then the shadow stretches across a mahogany hallway. But what if I stayed in the waiting room, under the looming tapestry, and the ornate carpet, the smell of lavender masking an antique musk, the buzz of a building well-lived in, and the creaks from below and above. For if I stayed,
if I stayed, I could wait forever under the etching on the ceiling, and the clicking of the seat. 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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