Traces of Our Placing

There are stories in anything we do. I think that most of us wish to be a lasting memory. The sashay you make simply sauntering along any street. Whereby any number of heads are forever amended, filled with new fantasies. How you stepped out of the camper van with your sundress tossing the young handsome lad’s attention against the heat of the sun’s rays beating streaks in competition with your wide smile. That cursory stooping at the puddle of…

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