During his last visit, my friend Jorge weaseled out a confession from me. Jorge mentioned that he regretted throwing out all his old love letters. My friend had come across the idea… 1,081 more words
Tags » Meanderings
Back when we were kids our perspective was quite literary.
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Clouds were made of fluffy feathers which had parted from lost birds, lightning cracked the skies and broke the latter with thunder, the wind was an angel’s whisper, crayons were simply made from the earwax of gnomes, and death was nothing but the gentlest sleep.