December 2011
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Some call it Christmas. I call it be home with mom and dad, grandma, our dog, excellent wine, all the food we can eat, a constantly falling plastic Christmas tree, our fire place, a quiet whiskey drink with dad, thoughts and secret wishes.
Merry Xmas.
Be happy.
Have dreams.
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Ran away. For a day. Or two. Got away. For a night. Or two.
Its no easy mission, holding onto how i picture you.
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Обелки от мандарини. Втора чаша вино. Размазан лак на левия палец. Странни мисли и абсолютно подтискане на всякаква съвест, драги зрители. Защото ми омръзна.
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Contest submission - done. Another fine portion of Sofia goofing-arounds. Bad memory. No sleep. Black feathers. Tons of vodka and Bushmills. Candles. Hands. Wrongs and Rights. No sleep. Pancakes.
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Like ships with no harbours.
Like stars with no sky.
Like hearts with no minds.
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