photovotary

brazen

Made of brass, your paper weight hobby horse teetering back and forth--time is passing. Each moment you look up from your worry-thoughts, something else has changed. What's different? A slight change in how you see the ones you've lived among for years. They age, and you age. The shadows grow longer. You grow tired. Night falls after the long pre-solstice day. How did it get so late? you ask. No answer.

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