I wanted to talk with who was in charge but I couldn't find the time. The fa
Ily kept me tied to a escalator and the air was growing thin. Fighter planes have the pilots train in extreme conditions. Breakfast is cold. The summer house is border up. I hate how once clear things are now lost and mischapen. Play clay editorials. Silicon Hands. Phones and napkins. The focus is lost on the couple across the bar. The drinks only hint at what the night will be...
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