Wednesday, January 5, 2022


 i once gave a book i felted to somebody who cut it open to see what was inside. it was an old hardy boys book, just child pulp, a little warped from the soapy felting bath, and i didn't consider that somebody would open it. perhaps i should have explained, but that was the thing, if you have to explain maybe it's not the right person, or the right gift. maybe it was meant for me to keep, or maybe the lesson was the precious thing. 

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