The gutters are crowding, I know it rained, and by now black has fallen over everything. I think they call this season Fall because the leaves fall down. And the wind blows them down, because the temperature runs away. When cars reeve past they made a silvery evanescent shrill against the wet pavement, words and phrases slipping out everywhere
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I can imagine the same things happening to them.
You should have been born fifteen years earlier, so you could have been a writer for that show.
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"...some of your entries."
"...some..."
That doesnt mean I was tlkaing about this particular one.
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im sure its lovely.
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