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Sunday, April 4, 2021

Basandrine

The night folds on itself and becomes morning. The morning sun burns off the morning dew and overexposes the blooming flowers. They shine bright then burst into millions of microscopic bits. They disappear to my eye, yet they still exist. I see them again when I close my eyes and they appear again in the basandrine. I can no longer believe what I have seen. 

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