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Jan 25, 2019 07:21:11

So this is

by @daniellucas | 213 words | 🐣 | 80πŸ’Œ

Daniel Lucas

Current day streak: 0🐣
Total posts: 80πŸ’Œ
Total words: 23452 (93 pages πŸ“„)

As I sat on the love seat in the apartment previously owned by my deceased maternal grandmother, in the humid heat of Tijuca, a short half block to the MaraΓ§ana stadium, the bright lights of the neighborhood trickled in, popping here and there - assault rifles to the wind, fireworks launched off favela rooftops, zipping through laundry lines - a sign of the new year we all silently took in, contemplating the passage of time; the river you can never step in twice.

As I sat on the edge of my seat in the living room where my mother had taken her wedding day photos, wearing a gorgeous flowing white floral dress, some 30 years before, she now sat in nearly the same spot, in her favorite oversized teeshirt (previously owned by my father) with its frenetic pattern of rips and holes (portals for exposing her soft Portuguese skin, and the frequent comical slippage of a breast), some 30 years later, the silence mounted as the sounds from outside faded, giving way to the tick tock tick tock tick tock from down the hall - or maybe a buzzing mosquito - the flattening of time lurching; a quicksand rising to meet us.

And so began the first night of my seed year, and the widening of the spiral.

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