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Laying in the cool of clover,she views the intimacy of her mother’s clothes — nightgowns dress nothing but air.But if she squints her eyes against the sun,and the wind fills them just right,she envisions her …
Elisa Affanato
J.D. Harms
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I love this line, E! Beautiful, as always!
Writing to share beauty and pain. None of us are alone in either.
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