Fairweathered smile
2004-04-21 at 9:53 p.m.

I wish I could call a truce with you. Sometimes when you are this far into an exegesis of what you've shared, it begins to feel like an autopsy, everything you've shared sliced open, the viscera of the years examined. We are on the shore of something, waiting for something to pull us towards or away from this.

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