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A tribute to the darkest day of the year

Copyright Yael Wolfe

I drop like a rock into this space. Each time harder than the last. Never easeful, never gentle.

That familiar chill in the air. The stinging scent of overripe fruit. I know that chill, that scent so well. I don’t have to open my eyes to know where I am.




We will not be tamed.

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Yael Wolfe

Yael Wolfe

I just want to be a big, bad wolf. | Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gleDcD | Email: welcome@yaelwolfe.com

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