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dpreller
The wind blows
it bends the grass like peasants in the field
I turn my face
valleys carved in the mountains of my gooseflesh
A golden leaf
bounds down the path to meet an old friend (more)
carthage
Dev and Kat made the top of the ridge a little before noon. As they crested the slope, miles and miles of icy panorama slowly came into view. A blast of freezing wind struck them head on as a high pressure system struggled to squeeze over the top of(more)