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t was a sunny afternoon when a small wooden stool was left on my porch. No note. None needed. The same stool we saw as we strolled for coffee last evening. The exact one with all its rough scratches. The one that I adored, and firmly responded by the owner ‘not for sale’, no matter how relentless I induced.
It was a February. It’s now February. |
on this blogJust ordinary day to day notes.. But as we know.. there is nothing normal in this world. Archives
July 2017
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