childhood
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I thought I understood Good Friday. Turns out, I understood guilt. Between a Cornish pasty, a dying fish, and a man cementing his own gauntlet to the floor, I realised something far simpler: I don’t owe fear. I owe intention. And from where I’m standing, I can see everything clearly now.
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A firm favourite became five days of regret. Here’s everything from the past few days.
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 