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23.vi.24
winter’s
middle and a tickle too
this
mist of mine
so
Sunday still
the
chimney at words
from
a fire
it’s
as with the birds
one
sings to the grey
thunder
piano though
this
is another country
days
soaking
and
the rainspeech creek
by
leaf by gum
don’t
mind me
don’t
bother to knock
I’m
just vanishing here
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