February 2012
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night of the expected arrival on friday
…is my significance in all of this? For was that not the buried question at the root of every action, labored and only accidental when by the mysterious intermingling of providence or stars in their celestial milk.
For the party would occur without her occupying her reserved seat, the arm of the sloppy couch. Is was only the circumference of her that was to be missed. Atoms would arrange in...
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“In the hot sun and in the dark with all the plans and feelings. This music was...”
– The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter
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