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■ November
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I think
sometimes of the countryside - and what it would be like to have pigs. Cute ones, with pink noses, like Wilbur in Charlotte's Web. Maybe a cow with soft warm sides to press our foreheads into when we milk her. Take me, now, there. Take me over there now. Past the hill towards the tall oak tree, and on towards the golden field without ties or a fence. Take me there with you To show the sun our laughing, lilted halos. It takes the sun a while to wake up in November, and I don't think I can take on the world without you.
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