this is the year …

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… when everything changed, but everything stayed the same. Not much was learned, and history kept repeating itself. Some tried to erase it but to no avail. As if dismantling the past would change the future. How could we recognize ourselves anymore with masks on, no matter how fashionable they had become. How could we find human touch again, a place to meet halfway. This is the year when it all came tumbling down, while many were left to pick up the debris.

 

© 2020 magicofwords

pensive

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I wonder what she thinks about. Those piercing eyes tell me something I don’t know.

She’s clever.

She senses the world has changed, but she finds common ground. A constant in the midst of uncertainty.

Something to lean on.

Her ears perk up to the sound of silence. It’s too quiet even for her. But peaceful at last.

An introvert’s dream.

 

© 2020 magicofwords