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  • The other day Maria called me an animal.
    "What Kind," I asked?
    "Something funny," she said.
    We sat there on the sand at Ocean Beach watching the sunset paint sky the color of death, like a long life ending, to be celebrated not mourned. Our dreams flying with the birds somewhere, becoming our life. Crying always feels so good when we get a chance to.
    "This is almost not real," she said.
    Couldn't stop smiling. Over our heads in something that's almost not real, finding that eyes aren't just for looking out of...
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