I will follow you
Who knows where Antonio is, who knows if he’s okay. I don’t know anything about him, what his story is, nor what he was thinking while writing his name on the bed. Maybe he was thinking of me, of the boy who would take his bed a few years later. I entered Sanpa a year ago, a year and four days to be precise and I miss my home a lot. A year and four days ago I was on my bed for the last time; I remember struggling to sleep that night. The next day I would enter here; […]
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