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Ensoul ArtsOctober 01, 2012. Another year gone, leaving everywhere. Its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,. The uneaten fruits crumbling damply. In the shadows, unmattering back. From the particular island. Of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere. Except underfoot, moldering. In that black subterranean castle. Of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds. And the wanderings of water. This. I try to remember when times measure. Painfully chafes, for instance when autumn. In these momentary pastures.
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