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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

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


11.16.17

I'm reminded of Dad every time I look in the mirror. His high forehead. His wicked eyebrows. His cheeks, curved just so when he smiles. His and mine till the end of my days. I smile, and he's there before me, alive and present.




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