And Then I Fell Out the Window

Life, examined and punted around

The Morning After

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Your November 1sts can happen any day of the year if you did a living statue performance the day before. You wake up slowly on a bright blue Sunday, makeup still smudged between eyelashes despite last night’s scrubbing. Your wig sits in a basket. Sunlight streams through the window and the day is new and untouched and you are yourself again, and it feels especially wonderful to be yourself again.

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Author: Out the Window

I'm 27. I'm about to embark on a grand adventure.

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