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Day 209: Prose: The Moon Hung Lower.
The moon hung lower tonight than it has in a while. And I told it to mind it’s business. To not ask questions of where I’ve been, who I’ve been with, or how I got here. It pushed the clouds out of the way, faster than tornadoes develop in the flatlands. Sinking lower and lower til it was staring me in the face. And I stuck out my tongue, flipped it off and said, “Quit staring at me.” But I got no answer.
words and images 365.
