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Jul 2014
Light emanating from distant ***** of burning gas are intimidated from the children’s vision by the unruly, central licks fluffing about their little fire.
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The wind, streaming in from the warm side of the nearby ocean, picks up waves of genuine laughter and stunning, off-key voices.
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A bloodline of salt water curls the group into a circular haven where there is no need for corners to shadow defensive secrets.
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This is a time of absolute purity as the children’s minds drift to Never-never land and their hearts float within the red wine spilling into their mouths.
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They are all the happiest that they have ever been - on the seams of their spines, dallying until the currents will overtake them someday to bury their bodies at the bottom of the sea.
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Darkness thickly pastes the surrounding beach, longing for the fleecy little fire to cease its bravado so that the children can fall deeply into sleep.
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The imagery reads in a very hiccup sort of way with nouns beginning and then also clumsily ending each stanza - I like to think that it is intentional. Inbox for citations.
Page Seventy Three
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Page Seventy Three
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