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I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don’t quite understand

I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don’t quite understand

I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don’t quite understand (Dominic Riccitello)

These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds

I thank God for my failures. Maybe not at the time but after some reflection. I never feel like a failure just because something I tried has failed

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