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In an afternoon I contemplate the sun ahead whilst lighting up a cigarette. The pier before me seems infinite into the horizon that could point to the currents to follow. As inept as this prose might be, I am able to sink in relief, for these words are my own and in them I unabashedly indulge. I hold a world in my hands. My defective mind could be one as well despite this darkness which surrounds. I begin to walk to the waters...
And I can now acknowledge, in theatrical disregard, holding hands with fear, I am alive after all this time.