I am suppressed. Not by some outside force, but by myself. I keep everything under lock and key. Secure.   I know this girl. She… well, she isn’t like that. She’s a free spirit, steps to her own music. Compulsive.   We’re not so different inside though. We laugh, we cry, we hope. And my... Continue Reading →


A basket woven with care With delicate pieces Art with function With purpose Not just to appear But to be used -Kel Dayheart

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