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Wednesday, June 29, 2022

Sat still, tiny pill, distant hill, mill in woods, cloaked in hoods, flower buds, rusting towers bent towards the slope of the mountain side, ride through mountains in valleys winding through, river flowing nearby from mountain to ocean down below, I go where the pavement goes, continue to the places where many have gone before. I find a path I know and go beyond that which I know.

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Categories: Fiction poetry short story writing

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