DEATHDAY

IN THIS LIGHT, THE EVENING REMINDS ME OF MY CHILDHOOD BIRTHDAY MORNINGS. CLEAN WAVES OF DEATH WASHING THE HUMID AIR TO THE CORE. DEEP TO WHERE NOTHING BUT HOPE CAN STAY ALIVE. UNBEARABLY. THOSE WERE THE MORNINGS WHEN CERTAINTY EXISTED IN NOTHING. I TAUGHT THIS GAME FIRST. THE GAME OF THE ARCHITECT ABLE TO BUILD ON HIS OWN HOPE. A GAME I LEARNED ON MY CHILDHOOD BIRTHDAY MORNINGS WHEN TRUSTING TO HAVE A NICE DAY, WAS PUTING THE SUN IN THE EVENING SKY. IMG_0889

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