Escaping North

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Late morning, a smell of spring. Sneakers full of dirt, sitting on the ground. Fingertips touching the waterdrops on the grass. A friend’s laughter. Sun rays reaching in; heating the cheeks. Surrounded by blue. Deep, ocean blue.

Somebody told me recently that your spirit is like your camera equipment. The secret is to avoid the scratches on your lens, they said. The secret is to manage to focus behind the scratches, I say.

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