Re:Vive

There's a space, unassuming, on a street you'd never see, normally, where the Times Square crowds don't reach you, there's a rickety stair case and a sound proofed door, there's room enough only to breathe, room only for your soul to sit, to know itself, to remind you of its existence. The voice in my chest is quiet from disuse, my limbs tremble, but they are here. I am here.

And the voice is all my own.