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The Whims of a Little Mind

It's beautiful, like the air blanketing insouciant cacophony of the city. Telephone wires swirling down the sunlit walls and ravens scaling the heavenward cobalt canvases, I peer out through the paint stained glass windows and see a little girl scolding the disobedient gray wall as a quizzical pigeon watches by. I look at her soiled locks ignorantly held into a pink headband, her clothes muddy and brown from the day's exhaustion and I realize how delicious innocence is, how flawless like the aztec patterns of the railings tinted on the gray terrace floor under twilight at dusk.

What a pity that life, eventually, drains all of it like a book of poetry put under running water...

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