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By the time the first of light broke, the obscure smoke screen of fog and fumes content had slowly vanished to moistened morning light, repressed tones of grey bathe mornings. Words and tender strumming, flickers and subtleties, like particles of dust and debris aimlessly rising from evening dance groups, shuffling that threw it up in blue skies, stillness of the morning that let it tumble back to earth; composed ashes of cigarettes.

Frenzied against the morning sky and howled into the silhouettes, we’re strangers passing in the streets with rigid arms and awkward smiles, yet we are now snared together, helplessly, hopelessly, forever.

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