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A Typical Friday’s Child
I was born on a Friday morning, and I recently returned to the house where I was born on a Friday, almost 30 years later, a typical Friday’s child. The house was a moment froze in time, as if nothing had changed since I walked out the front door at the tender age of 8. I still remember the dimly lit hallway leading upstairs, the flocked red wallpaper, and the salt and pepper carpeting. Nothing had changed in all these years I spent away, stepping out the front door at age 8 as a small child, raised on promises. I made my way through life, living, growing, and thriving, only…
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Take It Outside
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UFO
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Hung Upon Your Wall, For The World To See
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Faces
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In The Artists Studio
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In The Red Room
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The Power Down Below
March 2019
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No Strings Could Secure You At The Station
March 2019
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What’s It Like In New York City
March 2019