Where does the pain go when we die?does it stay in the bed as it begins to stink—does it racket through the home like a scream—do the children inherit it like a sprawling estate—And where does it go while we live?Maybe the pain is like me, desperate to be seen in the lives of those around me. I will abandon others again and again until I can finally be free of my own abandonment.
-Sondra Charbadze
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