letters to africa...
it doesn't feel like christmas. not here, not now... not to me. with everything all perked up with color and twinkling lights, all i could think of is how i'd be able to escape my self-made prison. the cold yuletide air is an aid that i am thankful for... at least i'm not the only one who's cold. not for this season, that is. christmases were meant to be carefree... now, they're but the deep breath that preceeds a great plunge. i'd rather freeze in mid-air... than burn down south.
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