A highlight from Do great things and take your flowers, by Majora Carter


Other times. She acts like. I'm a stranger or hates me. I'm not sure what to do with myself. So i sit on the floor and my barely furnished living room and opened up all boxes of stuff that i carry over for. Mommy's i don't know what i'm looking for. Exactly maybe some order. Maybe a braver part of myself to pick out an open envelope. The postmark shows. It was addressed to me back when i was starting high school. I don't remember reading it. During the blur of my teenage years inside is a cream colored card crane stationary the kind of heavyweight linen paper. I love it's covered in graceful sloping cursive spanning both sides of the

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