20 Jul

Some days I ice skate like an olympian, my hair trailing far behind and purposely skidding my skates in one direction to stop, making a snow pile of coolness.

Some days the lake feels so vast like an ocean, no edges; I can skate with no brakes. The faster I go, the further behind my hair, the more air I under my skates.

Some days when the lake is endless and the momentum effortless, I don’t know which lake it is, what country I’m in, my name, my mother’s name, my birthday.

Some days I evaporate into the cool air, remembering the atoms in the air are the same as the ones my skin is made of.


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