Saturday, September 21, 2013

"This abundance will not last forever", said the half-grown garden snail when I pushed its viney perch aside, "even the younger beans are starting to taste of hibernation and death."


The snail held its tongue for as long as it could, then abruptly, "Fear is the enemy of creation, it inclines us to well worn paths, softens steps past strange doors, favors the base and begs smiles from well-wishers."

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