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Vacancy

I don't have filled spaces. Nonexisting time lies to me, making me feel as if I were not empty. Space remains painfully unoccupied in me. There is no prince no poetry or sigh that a sigh without cause is consequence of passion. There is no romance or excitement. Word or song. Meaning or ignorance. I don't have time, it's true, for I am filled with the strange intensity of freedom and youth. However, all the space of my soul I keep like a ballroom with no ball. . . . If someone shouted in me . . . it would echo. Patricia Evans

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things