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It seems the only real constant is change… however… this place feels lost in its obstinate refusal to accept the now. My constant journey to find Grace is obscured and contorted. Nature seems the true agent.

Crepe-myrtle are heavy with color. Cicadas rattle and buzz with a well rested urgency. Hot and humid dominate the days with prolonged periods of thunder storms. This place feels primordial. Like it has always been this way….