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The wind picks up and it's hard to see...

The wind picks up and it's hard to see. My hair whips around like a kite's tail. In front of my eyes, a blond blindfold. She's the great disrupter, this wind. The soul striptease. I know you know. There's one in every family system. The seeker who says: Lift up the rug and show me what's underneath. No matter how gorey. No matter how hard. Just give me the real. It's the only way. Give me the real and let me feel it again. Profoundly.


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