First, Add No Shame
This morning, on a walk around my neighborhood with two poorly-behaved poodle mixes, I stopped once again for the baby pine cone. This one already dropped and disentangled, waiting at the border of a small garden.
This morning, on a walk around my neighborhood with two poorly-behaved poodle mixes, I stopped once again for the baby pine cone. This one already dropped and disentangled, waiting at the border of a small garden.
This morning, on a walk around my neighborhood with two poorly-behaved poodle mixes, I stopped once again for the baby pine cone.
This one already dropped and disentangled, waiting at the border of a small garden.
Writing can be small and wrapped, layered and touching, tight and nearly eternal in depth.
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This morning, on a walk around my neighborhood with two poorly-behaved poodle mixes, I stopped once again for the baby pine cone. This one already dropped and disentangled, waiting at the border of a small garden. Writing can be small and wrapped, layered and touching, tight and nearly eternal in depth.
What can he possibly say about the pine cone? What's at stake is always life, or beauty, you're not sure yet. The midterms are coming, and nine more years until AI bots destroy us.
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