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Day 127 of Project 365: On the front porch.

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As the dusk bugs swarmed our bare necks, we ate pizza and salad on the front porch. The conversation drifted lazily between topics, carried by the slight breeze. Small side-tables we had acquired a country ago, a lifetime ago, were jumbled with paper boxes and purple plates.

It’s good to be home, I thought, in that moment “home” being the place and also the feeling.

Writing from: my study. Listening to: myself yawn.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.