Today while I was working on my pset, I put my head down and fell asleep.
I dreamt something short and uncomplicated, but when I woke up, all I remembered was this image of a woman kneeling, looking at photographs she had taken (I think she was a photographer) that were strewn around on the floor. On the top was something she had taken when she was young and passionate about her work. It had no borders (all of her recent photos were printed with white borders) and it was a photo of a few pages of poetry on a brick floor. It was gorgeous, and it said so much.
I think that I put it there, to remind her of who she had been, and who she still was underneath it all. The photograph and the reminder made her cry.
Then I woke up and went back to work.
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