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not really anyone's fault but my own (Remove filter)

birch-backed remnants of smaller cities

and with that, he put the ember out in the center of his palm, a pain to be carried everywhere. A momento to the nonversation, to half-listening, and to feigned interest. A small simulacra of the mutual, the mentholated, the swirling smoke staining the ceiling in benign passing of time. A manilla mask of desire. A tonguing soreness, piqued at will with the wringing of hands -- a ringing informed b...

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ray charlesnot really anyone's fault but my owni have a lot of feelings about thisbirchsacredvancouver

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