The Essay cover image

Unspoken Communication

The Essay

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I Love You All, but I Don't Know How to Show It

Every item he ever bought me I kept. A bag holds his Liberty Prince suit jockers with pockets containing green ink pens and half a stubbed cigarette, never to be roulette. The silence in holding these items was shattered by the loudness of the memory attached. After he died, I smelt him again, whilst walking the streets of London. It was directly outside the back entrance of a cancer ward. I felt he was there, trying to communicate with me in a way that didn't rely on sound. He said nothing at all, and yet I knew. Was it enough? Probably not. Sometimes there are moments where silence says more,. witnessing a birth, the moment life

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