chanmyay yeiktha retains coming back to me when i overlook composition and silence more than I would like to confess

It’s two:thirteen a.m. and I’m sitting down listed here remembering Chanmyay Yeiktha for no obvious rationale, other than it's possible the human body remembers matters the intellect pretends to forget about. The space I’m in now feels too tender in some way. A lot of choices. Far too much flexibility. The fan hums unevenly, my cellphone ligh

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