Why is it that children never seem to understand, that like them, we sometimes need a minute? They are quick to come home, go to their rooms and shut the door, only to imerge at dinner time. A minute to figure out what's for dinner. Why don't they understand that sometimes, just sometimes we need a minute, if only to remember back to a life that was easy and happy; carefree and wreckless; when our biggest decisions were, what we'd wear to school the next day, or if John would ask us out on Friday. Just a minute to remember the "good 'ol days", when we were children like them...
‘Putting a Spell on Readers’
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In honor and cerebration of Women’s History Month this post…hence my
heading…was inspired by ‘The Autobiography of Nina Simone—i put a Spell on
you,’ with...
1 week ago
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