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LETRA
Half Fiction Eight hundred miles for you. Eight hundred miles for me. What can I say? It's not so hapless. It's not so harsh. I can take it. So I sit on the porch and I listen to traffic. I read the paper. This is water. This is wood. This is your living room. This feels good. Half fiction, half documentary. I'm right on. no. I don't know. There is distance more than miles. But our ideas are adjoining canals.
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