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No.195 - by Ella Frances Sanders - The Sometimes Newsletter
sometimesnewsletter.substack.com · saved by 1 readers
Attached to the walls of cities I only recognise when I’m asleep, walking along what I believe to be familiar streets as the almighty red sun sinks into a stupor, I wonder how many miles my feet have walked in three decades. I am made from mosquitoes, I am made from from something everlasting and elastic, I am about to walk into the ocean.
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