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we cohabit the same space,

breathe the same air,

are bored of the same monotony,

but stuck in our transgressive ties, that tighten on the wrists of those tied to us; a trap we can't evade in a space we are not fond of. Home is where the heart is but it's where mine is heaviest.

 

words not making sense.

 

You know those mornings were every little thing that happens makes you want to crawl one step closer to being back in bed? It's only 8.30am.

 

Off to work.

  

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Taken on March 30, 2012