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Inside good, outside bad

The days have lost their names. I really thought it was Monday but it turns out today is Tuesday. All I know is that it is green outside, that the sun rises high and early, that children play downstairs while I am still asleep. Their sounds are ugly, like jackals fighting over a bone slippery with meat. When I lived on East 1st street, there were handball courts downstairs and I often woke to the reverbing slap of the little ball, children shouting, the light applause, the wounded defeat. But here it is different. It sounds violent, and unkind.
Inside, V is playing with her dolls tiptoeing from room to room. There may be nothing sweeter than an invitation to one of her tea parties, or play dough adventures. 
I think these months of quarantine have sharpened certain notions, cementing them in my thoughts. 
Inside good, outside bad. 

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