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February 4, 2011
frozen, flat ground, breathing miles underneath, slowly letting the ground on top shift inwards and outwards, but the snow constrains life unless you're willing to travel far enough down into the blackness of the dirt, where the worms roam free.

and on top we're all just walking around on the slippery ice waiting trying to catch up with the bus that we constantly miss, not being able to train ourselves to leave five minutes early.

the only hope, it seems, is that the sun stays up a little later each day.

one day, those southwestern winds will blow towards us.