In my praying hours, all I chant for is kindness. May I love, whatever love is, the love that has no pride. May I count my blessings, and not minutes of attention I shall be paid. May my last word be that voiceless goodbye but with love written in the end. Just before the comma. Like a letter.
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And I will seal it with a date and a signature.
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I am home.
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In rememberance of my Mom and the last letter she wrote.
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Questa è Enida 
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