Sunday, February 15, 2009

day 40 February 9

When you spend days on your couch slowly watching the hills of Kleenex roll in on you, well you begin to get a little self esoteric.
"no one knows these hands like I know these hands. That crooked broke knuckle, the industrial washing machine scar, these must be preserved for future generations, why is my inner dialog so sniffly, BRING ME JUICE!"

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