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  • Small daughter as a tree in fall, weights and exercise machine to left, horse who has survived three childhoods hitting head against rail behind. Farther behind are left to the left now those hollyhocks I loved all summer, their last bowing captured here opposite the phone to the right, which I don’t mind much, except when it rings, and its cord abhorrent in its lack of aesthetic appeal. Why did the basil not grow up until October, and who thought of putting Klimt and his kiss on this wastebasket that has lingered long enough to be faded? And here yet the girl grows. Believe in the pose.
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