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Back in the world

September 16, 2012

After I return, there are nights when I dream I’m back. In some dreams, the city is full, in others empty, but it seems not to matter—I awaken, breathless, my head thrashing from side to side, and I have to put a hand on the wall to steady myself, remember where I am. The plaster under my palm is different enough from the metal wall of a truck that it grounds me again, back in the world, and the sounds outside my window regain their mundane context.

One comment

  1. ;-)
    Nice.



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