Tuesday, October 18, 2016


I couldn't cut one, they looked too pretty on the tree. This one was salvaged from the mud, a little injured on the side, I had to pat the dirt and dry it with my sleeve, but isn't it a moment of glory when you realize that something so fragile and so broken can feed you so well and that it often does so not if you plunge your teeth or gnaw away in bliss, but as you lean against the fuzz and breathe its scent with your eyes closed ...

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