A.j.c poetry

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an empty dirt road in the middle of a wheat field with power lines above it
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“All we are left with is the radio’s hum as the view through the dusty car window scrolls past endless rice fields. The sky is grey and heavy, and I am still carrying my fragile and muddy human history in one clenched palm.” — from M. McCoy’s ATMOSPHERE
flowers in vases sitting on a table next to a mirror
Jane Eyre