miércoles, 25 de mayo de 2011


My life is not as happy as it was.

This creature eats too much fruit. We are going to run short, most likely. "We" again--that is ITS word; mine, too, now, from hearing it so much. Good deal of fog this morning. I do not go out in the fog myself. This new creature does. It goes out in all weathers, and stumps right in with its muddy feet. And talks. I wish it  to be so pleasant and quiet here.  I wish I could see through the visible...

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