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March 12th, 2012

Dying Holes


Someone’s little girl once riding next to me in a car, a little girl not unlike one that could maybe be mine, in the quiet pointed out the window and said:

“Dying holes.”

We all laughed and kept driving by a place much like this one.


This day #145, I looked out my window, up the hill and saw someone’s little girl at a similar hole in the ground because this is how much she still loves who stays there. She took flowers, a bag of her things, sat on a soft white blanket and removed her shoes so she could feel the grass on her bare skin. The other side of that grass on her skin, also touches who stays down there. This is what she wanted to feel since she cannot touch anything else, skin to skin.



Three days later, I looked up this same hill, someone else who stays in a hole nearby must have also felt that love through that grass.

It would appear this other left their hole to maybe try and find her. That someone’s little girl’s love was just that strong.


I Am Only Still Here Because I Still Love You More Than This