This content was posted on 23 Feb 19 by Nora Bateson on Blog
Peripheral
If place makes me
Then maybe I don’t exist.
And if the memory of redwood dust is enough to find outlines
Then maybe I am still 9
Home.
Is a long story,
And I am the ink, the song, the characters.
I am the shoes. the dusty windowsill, and the rain outside.
I am the moment where you wonder if the threads will come together.
January 2019, San Francisco.
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