Rita

How did I find myself in a concrete and glass box? Distant whistling with the casual strum of an acoustic guitar competing for volume with the waiting city bus.

The city, my home city… is beautiful and full with emotion. Never once before did I feel, in action, the emotions nesting within. Here is a world surrounded in individuality, the progressive and the defenders of their ground co-exist and that in itself is in progression.

My loneliness is what I know best and what I not know. My city is my mother, she is home… The home to my concrete glass box.

I’m turning 48yrs soon, my almost 20yr marriage is in separation… the marriage is over but the family is healing. I am not who or what I want to be and I don’t even know who or what.. and I’m okay with that, for now… oh yeah, I have a self-controlling issue… lol…

My name is Rita…

Maybe tomorrow I’ll write more…

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