Markings on the wall

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Trust me, I do not always enjoy layering, especially when office colleagues insist on cranking up the AC and I just want to bury my face in fabric and not talk to anybody. But I am not writing to you about thick skin, much less pet peeves.


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In fact, this time, I have really nothing to say. Except maybe that sunlight, even at noon, is much more comforting than a cream-colored scarf. Which for certain unexpected days more than peeps through leaves, but manages to delight: summer in a yellow dress. Bright leaves sprinkled over dark gutter water.


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These days there is no need to scrape for joy from the bottom of our jarful of minutes. No need to untangle any yarns.


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Except maybe how we have forgotten to say what we really feel, which melts nakedly under the sun. Or thickens like dust on concrete walls, into grime.


Photos by Patricia Suzara

Thrifted wire-hem jacket and camouflage belt: both Izzue; jeans, Neil Barrett; sneakers, Bass; shirt and scarf: thrifted