How they flutterin the brain’squaint chambers,those we lovedbefore we knewlove for morethan a casual,affable torment:as though nota day had passed;luminous, ambered,butterfliesstuck in the brittlingpith of the mind.
That's beautiful, John. Thanks.
Thank you, Bill. Nice to see you...
Better late than never Pund, and did you see, he's got blue letters an' all now?
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