The morning arrived but the daylight never came.
For a moment I understood something about the world—then it disappeared.
Woken by noises on the roof, I looked out across the back garden, down the street towards the seafront.
Urban wildlife.
I went back to bed.
No longer separate,
but part of everything that moves.
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Author: Renee Newlon
I am a Turkish American writer and photographer. I work in short-form prose, poetic fragments, and photography. I don’t photograph the event; I photograph the moment after the event. A few things that stay with me: Plato’s Cave, Oberg’s Culture Shock, and Beethoven’s Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours. My greatest teacher was my college philosophy professor, Sister Jane Sullivan, who taught me how to think and how to see.
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