jeudi, juillet 21, 2005
"What does the world know of grief but spadesful of sand little troughs dug to hold casks of mahogany."
"What plays across my face is not me, but rather the extension of myself i use to reach to the world with."
some words i found on my hp, doubtless copied down from somewhere. unable to find the souce though.
"What does the world know of grief but spadesful of sand little troughs dug to hold casks of mahogany."
"What plays across my face is not me, but rather the extension of myself i use to reach to the world with."
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