“My childhood’s beloveds, my beloved childhood’s blocks, it is not you I swear. It is my own memory, memory that even now is more detached than my dreaming which is a more whimsical way of saying that the block that I once knew and loved, and dribbled basketballs on, dodging the cracks in the sidewalk with a glass broken tenderly enough…”
I’m running out of space but holy shit???
— Feb 20, 2025 11:36PM
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