Daily Delight: Chalk Dust Dreams & Sidewalk Songs
Sun on the pavement. Chalk in our hands.
We wasn’t just playing—we were laying blueprint.
That hopscotch grid? That was our first protest, our first plan.
Box by box, we made space where there wasn’t any.
A square for joy. A square for risk. A square for balance.
We moved like we knew something—because we did.
That rhythm? That wasn’t just a game, that was muscle memory for survival.
We jumped like the ground couldn’t hold us, like we had places to be.
Because even then, we were practicing freedom.
That chalk faded, sure.
But what we wrote in motion?
Still here. Still loud.
Hopscotch FreedomMinista Jazz
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