Wednesday, July 31
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Strange Life
It's as if you are alone in a room
in an empty house and there's music
playing somewhere, the kind of
music that you always knew would
accompany a moment like this
The air is heavy. The water in
the pool outside looks like glass
The color of everything can be
described as in the blue hour,
which eventually fades to gray
Yes, it's a strange life
But wait. It's getting stranger still
 - Eleanor Lerman
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  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov