The Sunday Whirl

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I could never feign the thirst of stories of my past, never be apart from them. You would think I would run out of breath to share them, that first roots would eventually be forgotten or discarded, and roads leading to the future prevail. I could try to deny those thoughts as easily as I could reach into the sky’s chain of stars and pluck one for my own.

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https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2022/06/12/wordle-556/

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