March 2012
February 2012
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“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves...”
– Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via ophidiophobic)
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I hate psyching myself out in to thinking that the dog is barking at an intruder in the backyard. But no, it’s not an ax murderer or a rapist or a burgular, it’s a damn squirrel. I hope…
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