I’m watching Billy Elliot and drinking winter beers and thinking about a city by the water a city someday I may come to. They say in the movie when he’s learning to spin to stare at a spot and you spin and you spin and you spin and you come back to that spot. It’s like I’m coming home. I’ve been spinning and spinning and spinning and you come back to that same spot. But I wonder now how different I am. Because I am. I wonder now if I’m ready to be me anywhere in the world. And I think I am.
what’s held me here is something I can’t take with me. However desperately I want to. I piece of a chunk of me I don’t want to leave behind. Why is so much of the world split into pieces? Why do we leave so many of our parts like bread crumbs?
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