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The water pressure in my shower is weak and sometimes tiles pop out without warning. Across the way lives a crazy family that shouts at one other from morning till night, then suddenly appears to be away on holiday for days on end.
In April I am moving down the street to a place with a big kitchen, a claw-foot tub and leveled floors, and I cannot wait to be there. But tonight, as I sit listening to music in the misshapen rooms I have called home for the past year and a half, I am reminded of what I will leave behind.
I have spent countless hours sitting on these slanted floors, staring at these crooked walls, and discovering a woman who, following a straight line, I finally began to recognize as me.
2 comments:
On time or late, I haven't be off of reading the blog. I've read literature like this post.
Normally I'm not this nosey, but some unknown, pulsing motivation pushes me to ask: Which four books?
I have no recollection. When I have a moment, I will crawl under the bed, read the titles and report back.
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