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He let the word settle without giving it orders
He needed to let his body confirm its own history
The Version They Kept
she would turn his words finding edges she hadn’t expected
He looked again at the images
“I just didn’t know what to expect.”
It is existential mileage.
“It feels almost childish,” I said after a moment.
But absence had its own gravity
Choosing which sensations are translated
They were pinned with her charcoal sketches
She wasn’t saving the station today. She was just washing her hands

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