ant5

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hints of the old lines

under the new

yellow lines

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you’re sure

it’s the same sun

at the end of the day

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in every inch

of the sky

bright dawn clouds

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the hen driven

from her dust bath

by the rain

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the supermarket

at night

a new kind of human

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even if

you do it backwards

it comes to an end

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in the margins

of our silence

a few flies

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tomato seeds

blown by the fan

slide along the counter

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another monkey

metaphor makes

you squirm

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