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Lotta diddle, a 50 year, half-a-centenary's worth of memories most of which washed by liquids through some system. The decade before I've no close memories at all.
H New Year's. Neither melancholy nor sentimental nor drunk. Cold. Measuring a way's ahead. Path obscure like all traverses.
Want to read.
3 Year Sample
Spring
Summer
Fall
Spring
Summer
Fall
Spring
Summer
Fall
This wind storm stalks my future.
It is to be held personally responsible for the anxiety trembling within me.
An action will be filed with the Court of Natural Law, and an injunctive writ be pursued: not to come within 500 miles of plaintiff for the remainder of his days.
Breezily this snow. Got a wind now. Hasn't stuck yet. Nine hours late.
How destructive nature is to my plans.
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Culture: we're immersed in it; we behave it.
Sometimes I shake my own hand, just at the honor to have known me.