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The trees create a blanket of shade, shielding me from the cruel sun. Leaves sprawl over the aqua canvas and create a moving painting on the grassy lawn. From my perch in the knotted maple tree, I can just barely see the Eiffel Tower, thrusting an ugly arm into the pristine sky. I regard it with distain: there was a time when I might have embraced its metal joints and prayed at its cement feet, but not anymore. I close my eyes and thank the world that there is only a blotchy darkness. The wolves have long since fled my broken mind, leaving it in shambles. However, the medicines have slowly repaired the ruined landscape, replacing bricks and righting flagpoles and planting trees.
I let my mind wander on its own, enjoying the freedom. It strolls past the gardens and the white paint of my new home and back to a darker time; a time where Jekyll and Hyde, as the voices were named, still presided over my every thought. They played a game and tossed them back and forth, ridiculing