Friday, October 05, 2007

Happiness

My hands and notebook smell of ink. My mind is alive, writing even when I have no pen, no paper. Is this what it feels like? Hopefully I don't fly in such a way as to stall. But I'm not that high yet. A fall will cause a few bruises, a couple of scrapes. I'll get back in that flying machine if that happens.

My hands and notebook smell of ink.
-The Drewcifer

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