He is here, and it is raining. It is Portland. He begins sadly with his protrusile lips to tell me about his yesterday, (in the rain, it is the saddest time to tell a story of a life); on these moist days he will look at me, indicate the dark sky and say, “We need oxygen to breathe. But only when you think about it.”
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4 comments:
Yeah ! I agree with you there. I hate the moist days too...
May Peace
Hope and Love
be with you
Today
Tomorrow
and Always
Merry Christmas!
BTW : I have blogrolled you. Hope you dont mind.
Well, I'm glad you are blogging again. I don't know Portland at all. I really wish you well. Keep posting, friend. By the way, do you want to join my other blog--we need good writers. Email me.
Hi Lane,
I love the understatement in this one. I think you are collecting characters.
I always used to think I'd love Portland, but after reading this, I'm not so sure about those moist days....
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