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Breakfast with no gossip
Could you please? If only I could. Stones and bricks and white milk. Black balls and the green. So shy. When the mist covers them, they still exist. You know I would. Between the trees, in the mist. Hungry, but no tease, the mist licks brick walls unseen. Feel the meadows in your feet and feed your child. Milk, no, inner silk. Could you?




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