untemporale

 Sara




I felt my lungs inflate
with the onrush of scenery —
air, mountains, trees, people.
I thought, “this is what it is to be happy”.

(Sylvia Plath)




untemporale@gmail.com

Don’t ask me when, but ask me why. Don’t ask me how, but ask me where. There is a road there is a way. There is a place. 

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