I’ve been in this place before

Each storm accompanied by calm, as though it had already done its damage and passed on to somewhere else, around the world, only to return, some day, to pass again, destroy and pass over until all is destroyed and all is calm. I’ve been in this place before, before I even came here. I’ve written these words. Shall I leave? As though leaving were not remaining. I’ll look around then, as though looking preceded acting. Or imagine, sit here in this place and imagine another, as though I could imagine and that other place were real.


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