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2010-11-03 - 4:04 p.m.

her face like a shell within its cap, then he knew that cloisters and classics are no use whatsoever. the problem is insoluble

it could be likened to the way in which construction paper chains go faded on the sun side.

i'm becoming unsure how to communicate with people who don't know the sensation of recurrently losing control of their bodies. stupid, at times, how the smallest things can be so leveling.

* * *


reading: rabelais. i'm still not sure why.
listening to: parov stelar - chambermaid swing.
working on: winding my mom's pretty handspun into center-pull skeins. i think it's worth the time it takes.
in the garden: i am picking the last few green tomatoes.


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