The Clocks Strike Thirteen

Looks much warmer than it really is. Parents, make sure you have coats for your kids to wear when they’re tearing through thick weeds and woods. I miss the smell of the forest – the good kind of dirt mixed with pine and a thin hint of sweat – to be able to walk through such scenes and just let them pour over you – oh that’s the dream I forget every morning. I’m imbued with such thoughts that each new one’s a warning: experience coming, overwhelming second – she was my girl and my world and my best friend. At least I say now when the warm sun is out. Heating up windows, brightening the house – you forget that it’s really quite cold.

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~ by perfectionatrix on November 4, 2011.

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