Emily Dickinson

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‘Why don’t we all go home?’ is what I always write when testing a pen or a typewriter why I don’t know and where is home exactly I know a man whose dream it is to crawl right back into the womb he spends a lot of his time attempting this (in a mild way) when he told me of this I was naturally most intrigued standing in front of a class I almost always long to go home and no doubt they do also but why when at home do I still write ‘Why don’t we all go home?’ is home the grave or is it some paradise I know exists but haven’t visited as yet or is home as they say a state of mind I think for me at least it’s no-one’s arms (and living they were banned) I see now perhaps my longing is not much different really from my friend’s we are all held in a silver net dreaming of the sea

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