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1:56 a.m. - January 04, 2003
On a walk at one a.m. there is no sound not even rustling in trees, only the groan of chains
Back in from a walk and how quiet it is, cool and dewy, my pants damp from where I sat on the swing at the park down the street a bit, the chains creaking like a sound clip from a horror movie and left rust on my hands. A very nice walk, aimless, no need to rush, missing only company, to listen to someone murmuring quietly. Thought about my grandfather and the time we rowed around the perimeter of Strawberry Lake and he asked me about my plans and how earnest I was at 10, 11 and detailed what I wanted, how to achieve goals and my quiet grandfather said You were always a smart boy you will go farther than you think. He was not a prophet.

Time for bed.


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