When I die, I want to decompose in a barrel of porter and have it served in all the pubs in Dublin.
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Wednesday, July 25, 2012
a model of innocence, gone and forgotten.
a gentle breeze—
the white lace curtains
swirled and danced,
imprinting their shadows
on her outstretched
hand.
she stood in the ray
of summer light,
reflecting.
what is so
significant
about an open window?
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