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for a minute there

In 100, by Nora on June 21, 2020 at 7:14 am

a disturbing dream wakes me up, just slightly too warm in the bed, 6am hazy, too-bright-already sunday in a san francisco june. the fog is folding in, sluicing down the bowl of the east bay, emanating from a gently throbbing sun, obscured two layers back in the fog, an unwrapped duvet, a creamy but ephemeral composite, creeping through the spires and guard-wires of the bridge, imperceptibly, caressing its laddered peaks as wisps of backlit fluff drift past from the south, gathering and consolidating all around (physics as a conspiratorial, social function) until the glass box around me is suddenly – afloat.

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