This isn’t a dance that breathes with an accordion playing through the night. If only it were beautiful like that…

May 19

I’m having one of those nights where I question my art.

I know it’s happening because my body goes, followed by my hearing, and then my vision.

“Oh, don’t mind me.

“I’m just dissociating.”

I’m distraught by the false happiness of my childhood.

So many doors to walk through.

So many pieces to fuse to…

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