Somehow, summer has slipped already into August, and I've been dragged along with it, dazily. In my mind I'm still stuck in the fresh-not-fried feel of June, but time has got the best of me again. I've been sweaty and in love
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No worries - I have zero artwork and only 100/ 500 pages in Crime and Punishment and no Journals. Intelligent people just procrastinate. It's something we do, no?
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