Maybe It Is..

Maybe It Is..

  Nothing speaks to me more than a pine tree and its misty breath and a sunflower and its fresh scrubbed face of hope and that moment in time when the evening is a pale rose with its petals around everything even the thought that it is not enough and the thought that maybe it […]

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Memory…

Memory…

Memory is nothing but a compound a distillation an essence a coming together seeping together staying together of everything that the eyes drank the skin tasted the breath sang the soul heard and never forgot and that is why when breeze mixes with rain you suddenly smell pine needles and distant snow and damp roses […]

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