The Sands of Hell
One more time, one last time, come with me to see the ghosts of Huron,
The long boat’s crack and wreck feel the labor of silent men and women in a world
That doesn’t pretend to know or understand.
One more time, one last time, come with me to see the ghosts of Huron,
The long boat’s crack and wreck feel the labor of silent men and women in a world
That doesn’t pretend to know or understand.
My wife’s lack of vocabulary was paralyzing me. No bread. No wine. No heady aromas. No clench within my chest when humbled by her practicality or attempts at empathy ever occurred.
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