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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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![]() Seawater clings to my soles as the voice of life ripples through the trickling rivulet that leads to the sea -- the sound of the suburban coast reverberates in my cochlea. A narrow fellow slithers against my ankles, winding its green-flooded leaves around my foot.
Pacific eelgrass are infatuated with warmth; they were raised with the motherly touch of sunlight. That summer, I learned to call ochre sea stars my friends -- I even promised one that I would embroider it in white velvet against the parchment sky. The coastal rain felt more like a baptism, sweeping my vexations under the heart, and leaving me with a blessedly numb, sort of relief that mirrors only the tail-like ebbing motion of the sea. The water trail leaves behind a scent of saccharine and ignites a mutiny in my aspirational soul. The billowing periwinkle quilt rediscovered the horse-beat rhythm that once echoed in my city. Pampas grass sway to a sprightly dance, and I strengthen in the gut. I will finish my eulogy another day. 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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