Everyone has a story. They tell it loud. It shows in their walk. The end of the mouth. Wrinkled or not. One might be sad. The other in the middle of a twist. Either way, their story is being told. Some yell. Others are quiet. It takes a while to find out the who, what and where. The reasons for the distress. The manner of which the tale they are acting in began. Sometimes you can figure it all out. I am a listener. A watcher. I take it all in. And, when I get all my facts, sometimes even I sing it out for all to hear.
~ JC ~
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