- Reads 24
- Votes 0
- Parts 2
- Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Jun 18, 2012
i grew up in the laps of the himalayas; protected, untouched, unharmed. the redness of the dirt was the softest matress i could ask for, the smell of the cooking cooking fire was my blanket. i had so little, but so much at the same time. then i lost everything i had to call my own.All Rights Reserved
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