A poster.
I feel suffocated if I am not in some way creating and spilling out the words which, if left unsaid, unwritten, unleashed, feel to me like the spikes of a porcupine turned inward against my soul.
I feel suffocated if I am not in some way creating and spilling out the words which, if left unsaid, unwritten, unleashed, feel to me like the spikes of a porcupine turned inward against my soul.
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