Elca Grobler

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My friend has God. Whatever vanishes for her is held in the permanence that is Him. All of her steep, giddy drops have a landing place: Him. All of her belly-turning leaps are met with His open arms. All of her ecstatic soaring enjoys the safety of His tether. All the stale and eventless stretches
The Shapeless Unease: A Year of Not Sleeping
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