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Alexa Daskalakis
Notes on what it means to be human—
written from the edge of time, memory and silence.
Evidence
Where proof meets denial.
It’s okay to look.
That’s what humans do—
we study what’s left
and call it proof.
But this isn’t proof.
It’s residue.
It’s what remains
when the living can’t admit
someone’s gone.
Maybe it was identity.
Maybe it was fear.
Maybe he’s still where
the world told him to stay—
somewhere that measures worth
in spouses and sons.
Either way,
I’m talking to the wrong person.
He’s not there.
And it wouldn’t matter
even if he was.
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