Like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried in my way to be free!!
The birds they sangat the break of day.Start again!!I heard them say
Seven to eleven is a huge chunk of life, full of dulling and forgetting. It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armor themselves against wonder.
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