I used to meet with T in an office with lots of toys. I miss it. Part of me would love to get down on the floor and play with dolls while we talk  I don't think I'd ever be brave enough to tell him that. I did tell him I missed the toys. He seemed surprised.
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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