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every moon holds a memory

The sound of steps against a dusty forest trail sharing thoughts and worries with dad; crickets beginning their concert timidly like the first chords of a grand orchestra. A windy day in the mountains, hair and mind both a mess; a plane crossing the sky far away while wondering where I am. The first blossom trees near a smoky road, the never-ending questions that I never ever want to end. The exa…