|Current mood:|| recumbent|
|Current music:||I'm trapped in an elevator...|
The shore to walk
I am stuck in an elevator in Idaho. I am transmitting this entry via my brain waves.
My dear Moppet - Seems to be another flight in reality - crashing to the sea of disaster recovery - A moment to soon a blink to short - comes in focus out of contort. Another bend round the mirror, stretches the universe in vision clear. I beg to begin to go on new, to freshen the day without sorrows blue. A puzzle piece to ponder its place while we prop up that face, in lightened smile, brightened, if for a while. As if to say - what the hey?
My Dear Socks, Seems to be me your further away from my younger days. We used to be so close... and now. You smell a bit. And it is'nt good!
Fareley Well my Sierra Rose, my mountain heep of Sheep skins. I loved you as I loved that tree in the woods when it was awfully cold and no one was looking anyways.
Be good to my shoes. They are old and don't have a lot of energy nowwadays.
It's time for me to be moving on... moving on on these bare feet of my mine.
I love you all
Come feet... we have miles to walk before the days end.
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