…SOUND OF LIONS…

[response to: Trimming Hairs Revisited]

Sound is Sound.

A finger once filling the next to the blender.

A finger once jammed in a door. The pinky was in pain.

The happiest thing for a person to have is twister on a sour day. (with a mint julep!)

Walk around – a radical nude walking a naked cat.

As in the communal shower, that was only occupied by one.

Veneer of washed plates peered in by a doe on a scorcher.
Same smile if neighbors had trust, and returned balls.

Community that’s a neighbor. [They had never met. She was also a neighbor. She lived in a small town outside of Johanneberg.]

Trim in the sense that life always seemed shorter.

That stealth was watching, void in the evening.

While she practiced stealth, whoosh.

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