Hanging on the wall in the entryway an Egyptian cartouche could be found for nearly 3 years. Translated it read: May all who enter be at peace. It mysteriously broke into multiple pieces some time last week. Poor thing cracked under all the pressure.
Okay, not to be dramatic or anything but I don't want online journals anymore. I have nothing to say, haven't for a very long time. It has lost its healing powers for me. So, blah, blah, blah, I'm done
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I found paints, brushes and canvas. They were hidden behind overflowing photo albums just waiting to be discovered. I remember sneaking them into my room. How quiet I was, making my way up the stairs and through the hall. I couldn't do it all in one trip and I placed them on the bottom of my shirt and held onto the edge, making a pocket to carry
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