in the morning,
after a strange dream about misplaced ambition and the road not taken, the book not written, the company not sought, I went out on the damp grass to meet this visitor, surely one of last year’s fawns.
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after a strange dream about misplaced ambition and the road not taken, the book not written, the company not sought, I went out on the damp grass to meet this visitor, surely one of last year’s fawns.
