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Él síla lúmena vomentienguo
A star shines on the hour of our meeting
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21st-Jul-2007 10:00 am - I write for me.








I will not filter for you. ♥.

21st-Jul-2007 08:00 amread more ...
"When I was little, my father used to tell me when the wind blew through the trees, it was cleaning them out - the way you would shake the dirt from a rug.

I always imagined trees as giant filters, leaf-dusters, collecting everything in the air. When I was older I was surprised (and yet not) to learn there was some truth in that. I always knew it in my heart.

I don't really know why I do what I do sometimes. Like sitting on the warm pavement in the sun, watching the garden. I believe I am communicating, but I don't really know. All of this is understood at a different level, one that is not conscious to me. It FEELS good. It FEELS right.

I walk away inspired, with thoughts in my head, feelings in my heart; ideas that could have only come from what the trees relinquished when they shook clean their branches."



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