Among the hours
We make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits
In slithered and too ample pockets
–Chaplinesque, Hart Crane
I just want to ask you, can I still keep that? That little thing we used to admire and wished to possess and couldn’t hold it not even close, but that tiny thing we continued trying to hug until the last day and that we weren’t able to reach. Well, now I’ve reached it; would you let me keep it?
—V🌼
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