bright flashing beacons of the obvious variety

i think it’s a bad sign when i start singing and the white lab i’m dogsitting looks up at me quizzically, pauses, grabs his bone and trots into the other room to chew on it there. out of ear-shot.

just like it’s a bad sign when you go back to italy a year after you’ve lived there and the man in the chocolate shop asks, “where have you been??”
oh… could that be where those 15lbs came from?

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lenticular?

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Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children.
-Kahlil Gibran

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