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- the most memorable winter
- i could still run
- hard ground, no gloves
- i don't know if he believed in heaven or not and i dared not ask and he could not speak
- i was hungry but did not want to go home
- i started to believe at some point that i was my father, not just like him
- of course i imagine him under the ground, no doubt so does she but all we talk about are the hyacinths and miniature daffodils that make his bed
- always coming back to this / these thoughts / this field / that day
- winter sun / son in my eyes
6 comments:
lovely picture and lovely words too stringbean x love you x
my favorite kind of beautiful. happy new year love xo
I am trapped in a Kingdom far, far away....I shall return to blog land as soon as I can solve the last riddle....
Oh, by the way, Anya=L'enfant now...but you knew that anyway.
how how how we keep living on the ground
i find the feelings of my own memories behind yours.
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