Out for Lunch. Be back Shortly.
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Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere
sflaffs@gmail.comAnd none will hear the mailman knock
Without a quickening of the heart.
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
For what are stars but asterisks. To point a human life?
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What's on the menu? I'm starved.
Grimly, he surveys the destroyed landscape, the black charred earth, the flattened trees.
What caused this, he wonders. What creator would allow such dereliction?
Where the bloody hell did that flaffy run off to?
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