skillet on the wall

my soul would sing of metamorphoses.
“I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an  echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell,  to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in  us all.”
-Richard Wright, Native Son

“I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.”

-Richard Wright, Native Son

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