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3.9.98 She is alone in the park. Intermittant raindrops fall like glass pebbles onto the mint green lawn. Memory becomes her; she walks among the stones and markers, pondering on times past and those yet to come. She weaves a history from moments that have not yet partaken in time, wishing she knew what will be and what is simply fantasy in her mental haven. To some, this day is just another cycle of time, a twenty-four hour circuit lost in the passage of sunset to sunrise; but to she who walks alone in the park, it's a nightmare, part one of one million. A curse of grief has been cast upon her, and she shall not escape until her final day. |