You can feel the calendar quivering. You can feel the months passed, heavy upon the nail holding them to the wall and the last page, weighted with such a busy month. It is a quivering of knowing, not only will the page be lift but the entire calendar will be released. All that was, all that was to be and all that was not known have had their dance... time for take off.
Do I dare hope to be so free?
Do I dare hope to be?
Do I dare hope?
Do I dare?
Do I?
Do.
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