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"She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world." Joanne Harris
Dressed in many forms
sneaks to rope another breath...
La vie en Rose.
Her Garden at 6:00 am.
Wafted by the breeze...
Once a Reverie Softly Spoke.
Obscure, these terms of light...
Spirits disbelieve in Love
Bitter, the taste of immorality...