I felt like we had known each other in a past life- where he was a scholar and i was his apprentice of some sort. And I admired him a great deal. But then, strangely, I have the feeling that I died somehow; probably by plague. So I became nothing more than a brief, cloudlike memory…
how odd it feels to be so hysterically insignificant.
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d's musings
assorted dialogue, prose, and scenes from things i should probably get around to writing in full, but haven't
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Flamin Hot Thanksgiving
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