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May 9, 2013

here some fruiting gooseberries, there a honey-scented jackfruit. had the earth’s core chosen differently, launched its lava some distance to the east (closer to its stately brethren), the big island could now be a golf course. instead it swims in cerulean drip, part earthly green part astral ore. some come to mend the fragments of life, others to escape them. plants grow. waves crash. the sun mostly shimmers and it’s enough.

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