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The cool light of day mingles with crumpled imperfect thoughts; and breathing, a little deeper, seeing, a little further, those clouds, that sky, seemingly far away, these toes, my nose, feeling their way, walking into the day - an embodied practise, movement, consciously considered, an articulation, and now this pen in hand moves across page, words appear, and, a finger, a digit, picks letters from the iPhone screen to make into this.

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