[excerpt]

But of all the things I have to let go of, I must first let go of myself. There is a prayer in my body that sings of triumph; the strength of my limbs are ready to climb the troubled terrain of hearts, mine and yours. It is time, it’s about time, it will be time for death to die. My escape will be thunderous, hope will grow hands to clap for me, and I will run with wind rattling like chains not of last breaths, instead, first gasps. (327/365)

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