Escape

I evaded that trap, 8 am, begging, food, pennies rattling. Why did I not give anything

We condemn escapism always, abstract, is it destruction or is it just us, wet, cold, breathing, needing?

What’s so different between a housewife in her Danielle Steele and a sans-abri in his bottle of Bordeaux?

Tell me. What flows through our veins?

Question 1, question 2, question 3

and in between I’m writing again

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