the digest: can you cure a mistake?
The weather, as perfection is, is contextless.
The skies are blue, the breeze cuts the heat like water in whiskey, and the sun sets are late enough to glaze evenings in a sweet laziness.
Your skin clogs on the smooth meadow of your freckled cheek. In these weeks of returning to the regularly scheduled programming, your head rests on your knuckles during…
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