For a parent. And for a child to remember they have a parent who loves and needs love.
How often have you heard yourself being called crazy? Or told someone a woman you know is crazy? What does that mean to you?
When does a muse become a real person? And is love real for a muse?
Rules, identity, boxes... are you inside them or outside them?
Play the music, dance, own your shit.
One way to move forward from the pain of lost love.
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