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“Letter two You are becoming a ritual. I write to you the way my mother folds clothes soft, deliberate, half-aware of some absence that once wore them. I hope you read slowly. I hope you read like you’re scared to reach the end of me.” — Maimoona Abidi
Letter two
You are becoming a ritual.
I write to you the way my mother folds clothes soft, deliberate,
half-aware of some absence that once wore them.
I hope you read slowly.
I hope you read like you’re scared to reach the end of me.