In search of my MS Zen

Despite having my inner dialogue running into philosophical mayhem, parameters on what I perceived to be acceptable have been reset, and my inner dialogue needs a fix as an intuitively sharp anguish took over my mindset last week.

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My brother’s silence

  A small, black leather wallet. Used, worn and carrying the scent of the jeans my brother used to wear. A plectrum, faded by the many songs he played on his bass guitar.

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My brother

A small, black leather wallet. Used, worn and carrying the scent of the jeans my brother used to wear. A plectrum, faded by the many songs he played on his bass guitar. Memories. Too many to fill my mind at once. Love. Too deep to ever forget he was my brother, my only sibling.

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