Saturday, July 4, 2015

Strawberries, cherries, and an angel's kiss in spring

Dear future hubster,
where seasons change, where snow and rain and heat still come and go, where days get longer to get shorter again - summer nights smell different there. A hint of absolution for sins we don't remember, a taste of promises we have no intention believing, a glimpse of daydreams that haunt us in the midday sun. They smell like everything could be possible - if only we weren't so afraid.  

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