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What got left behind when we raced? I was a car without mirrors, backseat, or seatbelts, I would speed to not fall behind, but I left Ā my favorite bear when we moved. My trading cards and colored marbles, the plastic city where I raced toy cars and good guys got married, I left them. I was anxious to blossom Ā like my mother promised I would, but a flower cannot accelerate the sun or will the wind to move the clouds. Ā I grew up in the plastic city with friends whose plastic smiles were well-intentioned, but a plastic man does not know Ā what he is made of until he sees real flesh. What happens then when the cars accelerate?
A Master of Science, but a lover of art, Noah Hubbell is an insomniac poet from Denver, Colorado. He finds joy in complex philosophy and comfort in simple living. Currently, he lives in Aurora, Colorado with his partner, Claire, and their Labrador, Pal.