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Pa
The motions of the breeze spoke words. Sounding
like words. Around me the dead in their postures waiting
for the bird-of-paradise. As the russet leaves scatter
about the mottled flowers, spreading the mulch. But it's
only a little garden of stones and pickled herring as pa
lay in his tux.
like words. Around me the dead in their postures waiting
for the bird-of-paradise. As the russet leaves scatter
about the mottled flowers, spreading the mulch. But it's
only a little garden of stones and pickled herring as pa
lay in his tux.
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