Some days, the words just flow out of my fingers, thousands of them, before I even realize it. The only things that shake me out of my writing reverie are my aching wrists, or pressure on my bladder. Saturdays are the best for this. I generally have the house to myself; my husband is usually at … More Differing Levels of Production
Your speech disrupts my quiet introspection. You never stop and stare at the beauty in trash. In fact, You wonder what I am doing, staring at piles of garbage left on lawns.
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