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Magic realism

I can hear my heart beating in my head. The sound is awfully familiar but it's foreignness puts me at ease and convinces me to allow it be.

The motion is rapid but the feeling is gentle. It's similar to placing your hand on top of a drum not to stop the sound but to feel its soft vibrations.

I don't know if this is it -how it's supposed to feel- after all, I am certain there are an infinite amount of ways to feel it and I am determined to go through them all.

But this, right now, feels perfect.

I didn't have the slightest clue such a strong feeling could coexist with peace and ease.

For long, my time was wasted feeling overwhelmed, erratic while I rode in a car with a grimy windshield. It wasn't normal nor right but none of it mattered then: there was no reason to look forward when I wasn't the one steering. Inevitably, I had to when there wasn't anyone around to do it for me. Initially, it was discomforting and disconcerting but I managed to take control and clear the path by wiping the filth away for good.

After, I wondered why I, or anyone else for that matter, would ever risk it again. Risk and allow the chance -no matter how slight- of making a mess of things to come near. Much less had I expected a foreigner to reason why I would. Yet here I am, terrified, but perfectly willing and content to do so again.

I have come to notice it is because I don't feel I am depriving myself of anything going down this path. I am still the one driving and although you are to, we seem to be going the same speed.

More often than not, I confuse it's unfamiliarity with intangibility but something tells me that's not what it is.

I can only trust you feel the same or at least your truest version of it.

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