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a brutally beautiful life
As 2020 drew to a close, much was being written about renewed hope, a fresh start, and a year ahead that promised to be different, better. As though with the flip of a calendar page, we would shake free from the clutches of a turbulent year and move forward like everything was once again ‘normal.’ As though the trauma would astonishingly disappear. Our memories wiped of what had altered every aspect of millions of lives and taken so much. While reading all these hot-take articles and essays, I thought, what a load of shit while seething at the suggestion. LOOK AROUND, I wanted to scream. What a farce to assert…
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the art of letting go
One evening, in August of 2018, three of my oldest friends and I were gathered around a patio table. Like we always do when we’re together, we were sharing absurd stories and laughing our heads off when a literal head fell from the sky and landed right in front of me. There was a collective stunned silence followed by a slow chorus of what in the hell? Though it became clear a crow had dropped it, I couldn’t help but think the Universe had used that bird to send me a particularly dramatic message. When I looked up, it was just sitting there, perched atop the roof, looking rather smug that…