

8The red upon the towering wall of brick, the lucid blues and hues - the high horizon The gastic give, the blustry breeze goes foth reflected on the retina of a woman8
the ground becomes the sky, on grass, they lie a sigh - so lazy calm, as lazy calm as halcyon, on and on, the gradual gradient from noon to night to their forever dawn.
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9Lately, all of the cats have been digging this style of writing called beat, when people have the beat and the rhythm of life just flowed out of their mouths like a river of beat, to the beat of the happening stuff like the kicker hitting the bass drum of a drummer that’s playing in a jazz group and wow, with the trumpets just a soloing and I swear that that trumpet player’s channeling some sort of wonderful musical vibration because that sound of the trumpet playing that lovely melody just touches my soul, like the caress of a feather pillow against your head when you roll on your bed Anyway, when I was fully feeling the tunes an9
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[link] MY BLOG!
love you
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To love and be loved is the greatest happiness of existence...
Well, that, and that thing you do with your tongue.
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I stepped out of the car. The warm smoke emitted from the back hit my bare calves just below the portion feeling the frigid wind, and the disparity of the two sensations made me feel like my legs were being cut into bite sized pieces.
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czech out ma gallerie!
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I vow to paint half as many portraits as I did last year.
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