Some days hold more relevance for firsts, or lasts. Kisses, hellos, or the promise to never say good-bye. Today is not one of those days, but one that the wheel turns and turns, and the potter’s hands move slab to curve and bend. I wear linen and you insist on fur, while we gather on your carpets, the world continues to the beat you set forth.

Waning Gibbous

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