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Splendor in a Dark Year

  • Jon Hoel
  • Mar 5, 2018
  • 1 min read

He who wants honey must abide the bees. But, the bees are going— Our glazed eyes avert.

I am the speakeasy, I will tremble against the amaranthine snows forever. My brittle bones crumble, I crumble.

You will encounter one million different people in your whole life.

As part of a world more meaningful.

You read a gently worn book on dog fighting and the dogs never win. This, this is our history. Intersectional, but indifferent.

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