i’ve forgotten the shapes of countries, i can’t recognize the globe; replacing their memory with the feel of wind in my face.
—and the ‘gulls no doubt sing atop the marbled ruin of Her return.
i’ve forgotten the shapes of countries, i can’t recognize the globe; replacing their memory with the feel of wind in my face.
—and the ‘gulls no doubt sing atop the marbled ruin of Her return.
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