“There is something here that frightens me. When I figure out what it is that frightens me, I shall also know what I love here.” ~ Clarise Lispector
I think about those days of barefeet, scraped knees, sunburns, mosquito bites and garden dirt…
she strained to hold on to the good parts when the not-so-good parts were hard to shake off
with the fear of stagnation she became a shapeshifter
there were those hot sticky nights picnics by flashlight on the dewey grass waiting for the fireworks we chased fireflies
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