The world is awash in sunshine.
It filters in through every fugitive crack through which the wintry drafts once blew and illuminates the tired souls who hide within. It seeps into my skin and melts away the icy mask winter has glazed upon it. It awakens life in me long dormant and I bloom with the big pear trees.
All the world is rococo today, and
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Note to self: next time, put the fictional disclaimer at the BEGINNING.
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