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self-portrait of me and J. at the Arboretum last week. He took a day off from work and we went to see the purty colors of the turning leaves.
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Some mornings I wake up from this dream about a friend I haven't seen in 20-odd years, and my chest feels hollowed out with longing for him, for that connection. It feels deliciously right and disappointingly sad at the same time. It's a mystery.
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