"If you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose."
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All night, we hear the wind chimes tied to the tree in the backyard, and in the morning one could mistake their sound for strange and distant birds. Everything is inchoate in the early hours, with the vellum of sleep still heavy on the buildings, the grey lanes, the sole figures loping in the late dawn, and one can easily mistake the sounds of metal for breath. Even the air encourages this error as well-meant witness, as the morning film transfigures and misguides, and I love it still, as I love the sheet of plastic that blew in some time this summer and tangled on the boughs of that same backyard tree, and now, in the absence of green acts as the only leaf on the otherwise bare branches.
"If you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose."
"If you want to have a staring contest with…
"If you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose."
All night, we hear the wind chimes tied to the tree in the backyard, and in the morning one could mistake their sound for strange and distant birds. Everything is inchoate in the early hours, with the vellum of sleep still heavy on the buildings, the grey lanes, the sole figures loping in the late dawn, and one can easily mistake the sounds of metal for breath. Even the air encourages this error as well-meant witness, as the morning film transfigures and misguides, and I love it still, as I love the sheet of plastic that blew in some time this summer and tangled on the boughs of that same backyard tree, and now, in the absence of green acts as the only leaf on the otherwise bare branches.