The phone call, by Britta Benson

My mum died two years ago. Sometimes, in my dreams, I chat to her and we have long phone calls, from soul to soul. When I wake up, there’s always the harsh, awkward moment, when I realize, it was just a dream. There is, however, also the feeling of gratitude, that I had a niceContinue reading “The phone call, by Britta Benson”

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