Amy Winehouse

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Twenty seven years.

Drinking binges; drugs; cutting;  co-dependent relationships. Innocence lost; numb the pain.

That voice: throaty raw authenticity. 

Making cups of tea for paparazzi.

A feeling I have no name for is here: it’s not fair. I wish you had the strength to hang in there. Your potential is gone, so suddenly. And so is your pain. R.I.P. Amy Winehouse.

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