You don't understand the mechanics, the blueprint slips out of your line of vision, all you know is you wake up not just alive but living. The river is a cacophony of florals, you bathe in joy at the assault. Your accountant says You don't make any money though, and the spreadsheets ask incredulous questions about how you're paying the rent, but all you can think of is finding that map of highways across America, all you can think of is how you were raised in a suitcase, none of this scares you because if it looks like freedom and walks like freedom, you may find it will taste like freedom when it reaches your tongue.
You fear speaking too soon, you fear you are not well and truly out of the dark, you knock on wood a hundred times over, but oh, oh, how sweet the scent of cherry blossoms when you haven't seen color in years, how deep the sleep when you trust you may wake in sunlight.
Start there.
Keep going.
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