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Nail Polish Polka

Everything forever a mystery. What a wonderful thing adding to a colour – something to mean. A brush upon pearlescent. Surface so pure. An aesthetic to please none but the weary pools of lost endeavour.   Coy it becomes. The […]

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Eighteen Minutes Passed the Hour

If a day had only eighteen hours I would gladly spend the first sixteen musing over the thought of her. A more amorous day I find hard to imagine, and were I to be proven wrong, that day too would […]

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