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FOGGY THOUGHTS OF YOU. On the first of December The night before, I'd made Irish Stew. I was a witness. I thought of time-lapse. Then angles. Then angels. Then you. I watched through aching, Vapours slowly,
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Fingers touched They grabbed all sight trees, carpark, ground... Heat gently rose up I was a witness. I thought of time-lapse. Then angles. Then angels. Then you...
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