Chapter Five (2)
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just as well. Something inside of me has gone to sleep forever. I think life is better this way, without strong desires, without having high, and unrealistic expectations out of life and the ordinary people in it. Every day that I draw breath is enough. One day I won't, and I'll finally be able to rest. 

 I think about this as I put the books away, finishing out my shift. When I clock out, I sling my purse across my body and make it over to the poetry aisles. I touched the spines of the books lightly as I walked past them, letting them whisper to my intuition, feeling as they pool together and trickle down to me. I stop at Rilke’s Book of Hours, easily one of my favorite books, and one of my favorite poets. Every single poem a delicate prayer, a supplication, ti...

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