Lacan was right.
Maia is currently running around the house, jumping on things, and yelling: "Evelyn Terry! No jumping!"
This could be bad. Or it could also be one of the cutest things I've heard all day.
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But you're caught in your own glory. You are believing your own stories. Timing your contractions. Inventing small contraptions That roll across your polished hardwood floors. ~cake "open book" lyric
1 comment:
These are fantastic.
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