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I'm awfully fond of my T. He's like that soothing blue after-sun lotion that I don't think they make anymore... Used to love that stuff.
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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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