In my dreams I'm climbing. My hands grip wooden railings and the edges of bricks. I pull myself over balconies and stand on the knobs of doors. I brush flakes of paint from my hands onto my pants and look over a small inlet to apartments across the water. There is a light there, blocked by a friend I only know when I'm asleep. I think routes, maps
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our son is six weeks old, and neither of us has threatened to kill him yet, so i think we're doing well.
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bloodkrystal
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