I found my freedom with you in these: the meat and drinks in the house by the cemetery, backpacking across the "old continent," your crazed-boy love letters about getting kicked out of school. The tears really came when you sang for me.
I am one of many, embarking on this experiment. The idea is to write a short piece of poetic prose about 365 people I have encountered in my life, one entry per day for a year, using approximately the number of words, matching my age. I've stopped, then resumed, but I am resolved to take this to the finish line.
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