A True Story

Butterflies & Machineguns

I have lived in the same apartment for the last two years. This little two bedroom beach slum isn’t the grandest or sturdiest place but it is my home. I know the ins and outs; the cracks and crevices; the touchy burner and the cracking tiles; how the setting sun pulls shadows up the walls and the nightly hums and gurgles; almost as well as I know the material I’m studying.

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