“A lost dog, wet and cold, grows hands.”
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DO NOT MAKE ME STOP THIS CAR AGAIN!
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He wove vine leaves in his hair.
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“ . . . it means telling a story in the way only you can tell it”
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Softer edges are no less true because they are more difficult to grasp.
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Here, then, is a not small question: How do we perceive what we lack words for?
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How much that gets us through our day comes from hands unknown?
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And like some loves, it can show up in a way you might not recognize at first.
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