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Leaving the sun, is like leaving a warm fireplace, letting go of an embrace from an old friend or maybe even exiting the womb from where all life have its entry point. I leave with my glittering sneakers in one hand, soft pink fluffy llama notebook in the other and my eyes fixed on the first of two red doors you have to open, before natural sunlight will hit my face. Who would have thought sunlight was red. I went straight to the tree of life in the backyard. I went straight to these notes even though I have to pee and have 1% on my current writing-devise. Walking out of the sun, I was greeted by the wind. A little bit of rain. a little bit cold. I see my fellow poetic students passing by, as they have exited the sun. I see them walk. I see me walk there as well. I see us, all walking away from there this very last time like we walked there together for the very first. Mental picture. Sense of community. Belonging. Fear that this will never happen again. Self-assured that we can make it happen if we want to. Fearing this was the end. Knowing it doesn’t have to be. Loss of need to stay in a closet. Gained need for staying in awkwardness and people starring. Trusting this was perfect. Feeling this was right. Gaze forever changed. Stepping in to existing. Again. But new eyes to gaze with. Now the sun is shining. If I want, I can pretend it’s red – but I don’t have to. I like that.

The Mouse