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The ground is uneven everywhere I’ve ever lived pt 1

In 100, by Nora on November 22, 2019 at 7:02 pm

The ground is uneven everywhere I’ve ever lived. Today with inappropriate city boots, I stumped through the grove of sparse and craggy northern california oaks, my re-soled heels finding no purchase against the miniature rolling foothills beneath them, blanketed in dry-yellowed, spiny oak leaves, crisped from their sprawling, just-dying california summer. Jurassic-smooth bone-bleach dead palm tree fronds, feet long, litter the ground like the carcasses of our mesoamerican, ohlone, spanish, gold digging, frontiersmen ancestors. I miss running around barefoot til I was nine basically, feeling the stolen sandstone gravel, the geology and archaeology of my birthplace, through my thickened soles.

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