November 2010
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Grandpa's sunset.
His imminent demise is a rebirth to the harsh truth that life is short. Rather it isnt long enough for me to tell him that I love him. Last night I cried aloud as he used silence to whisper I love you too. He doesnt speak english, but last night everything made sense. His breath sounded sweet, like the santol tree leaves in the wind and soft like the sunrise above the rice fields. Last night the...
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