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A slow breaking and mending
of blood and bone
fit for the poorest
of ivory souls.
Pour tomber, pour courir,
pour mourir; no less!

Mademoiselle
No one, to you,
do tell.
A dream,
perhaps a nightmare,
that died in your arms
much too long ago.


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Sunday, May 25, 2008
I'm finallyyy
HOME, SWEET HOME: where the jeepneys photograph better than cable cars and merlions and great big ships; where the character sticks between the grit and grime of ancient tsinelas; where everywhere is a scene and everyone is a little stitch on a beaten battered thread bare old coat! Home, where the run on sentences are perfectly justified by the fact that I've got that ohsofamiliar feeling of my heart riding up my throat!

There's so m
uch more I wish I could say, just to try and give a certain someone that certain feeling..or something a little bit like it, but I'm pacing myself here. Because, despite the fact that I know myself all too well..I'm rooting for you over here :) This is one bet I want to lose..just because it's about time I outgrew this silly little habit. So come on, prove me wrong. Lean in a little nearer, linger a little longer and say a little more. Oh, and keep an eye out for that inside curve.

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