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The Perpetual Rhythm of Escape

Instead of school we go to the hill. Lie flat on our backs, grass tickling my neck, tickling the backs of my bare legs. Above us the un-tangible drift free, forever shifting temporal shapes. A fluffy white bunny cloud gets longer, stretches out and breaks into road kill. The imagined wisps of a cliff fall into coastal erosion against a perpetual sky.

The Perpetual Rhythm of Escape is story of the week on Ladybox book’s Ladyblog!

Read it here.