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touching
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Lying on our backs under the blue skirt of the sky we are Hansel and Gretel noses touching tickled by spritzy autumn air and a hint of the sweet stickiness of liquorice. Leaves are eveywhere - under us like a thick layered mattress, falling down on us like coins emptying from a busted open treasure box. The birds are singing in a complicated code I can't crack. Somewhere deeper in the woods the witch is waiting, biding her time. I can smell gingerbread baking. Not feeling that hungry, actually.

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