damn december

by underswansea

RCE_2687

Imagine up there. You can’t put a price on the light. Or they way it blinks and blinds through the spruce. Plenty of deep snow. Up to your waist by now. And cold, if you can’t imagine it, I’m telling you so. It’s good to be sensible, finally. I can enjoy it now. Spent nights in cold cabins, hungry as hell. Have been windblown without hat and gloves. My toe has frozen. The same as my left ear. They’ve never felt the same and my dead toenail falls off once a year, usually during summer. As for the ear, it hears perfect, maybe even better.

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