We took up pipe smoking the other day and started wearing horizontal-striped stockings with black tattered pants. Your lip started to curl in a permanent snarl that make your laughter seem cynical even when you giggled. Which just made me laugh harder. Then we hid in the woods between your home and mine and became bandits with off-key howling songs. We spent hours robbing people of ticket stubs, lost buttons, scratched-out grocery lists, empty tins, and tiny bits of string. We got cold when the sun went down, so we went home for hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream and sprinkles on top.
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That is beautiful. One of those pieces of writing that tempts me into overcommenting. The bits and bobs you stole in the forest bit makes this whole piece just beautiful.
Paul – Overcommenting is not discouraged at the Milkcrate.
Oh good. I pride myself on my overcommenting. Why not? It’s a form of writing that great writers have practiced for centuries. Not that I am a great writer like yourself, of course.