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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


01.22.08, tuesday evening

Amid muck and sodden grass lay a dead fox, small and russet, with its eyes closed or taken by a crow, I could not tell, that was how dark the sky had become. It lay with its back legs stretched, as if it would leap into life again.




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