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The world for a moment sank into soundless silence. One second became an hour. I watched it as if it were a frame, cut from an old celluloid film. I recognize the decorations, I recognize the people. I have lived in these situations, I have read these words. My skin breathes with the air of the past world. I look at it, and I sometimes feel alone in my silence. Sweet unawareness gives an impulse to respond I play the next acts, no longer so absorbed by my role. Does meaning still mean anything? Only silence, music, and the warmth that we give away. I’ll look at the tips of my feet, moving slowly. I leave my right arm rest from carrying heavy books in the bag waiting for the lightness of thoughts.
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Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 6:26 PM UTC
Bag
The world for a moment sank into soundless silence. One second became an hour. I watched it as if it were a frame, cut from an old celluloid film. I recognize the decorations, I recognize the people. I have lived in these situations, I have read these words. My skin breathes with the air of the past world. I look at it, and I sometimes feel alone in my silence. Sweet unawareness gives an impulse to respond I play the next acts, no longer so absorbed by my role. Does meaning still mean anything? Only silence, music, and the warmth that we give away. I’ll look at the tips of my feet, moving slowly. I leave my right arm rest from carrying heavy books in the bag waiting for the lightness of thoughts.
Agnes-de-Lodz
Written by
48/F/Poland
Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 6:26 PM UTC
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