The One You Barely Were. The One I Am.
A reflection written to the brother who never lived — an elegy for the space between inheritance and identity, where grief becomes the shape of love.
A reflection written to the brother who never lived — an elegy for the space between inheritance and identity, where grief becomes the shape of love.
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This usually takes some time, the wrapper is everywhere, ugh…
This usually takes some time, the wrapper is everywhere, ugh…
