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After months of feeling disoriented - and countless hours spent struggling to regain a sense of equilibrium - this morning I rose before dawn, washed and dressed myself, fed the cat, repaired the tires on the old blue bike, and rode a mile down the road to the nearest coffeehouse.


The world is never more civilized than it is in those early morning hours, on the edge between darkness and light. There is a quietness that cannot be replicated, an utter stillness so poignant that one cannot help but notice the true portrait of the world’s beauty coming forth… a moment so fleeting that the lines and shapes of that likeness remain soft and subtle, never fully defined, but always present. I sense a closeness to home unlike any other in those moments... then and only then. It is such a smal...

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