i want to post, but don't want to tell you abt my wkend.
i am out of practice of my geschichten.
allsorts of whoknowswhat.
although the paths have been beaten into this whitegray plainplane the going is still slushslow the bright blinds us into a hush, we are awkward in these crowds. it begins with tulips in cups and a tshirt in berlin. for the
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