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Menagerie
October
wilowisp
I've got someone who will count pomegrante seeds with me, and someone who will turn the stage lights on for me. I've got someone to trade vespers with and another to share spices with. I've got people who watch how my dice fall. I've got someone who will always ask me to dance. I've got someone who wants to take my picture.

I know mathemancers and dream-pushers, wordsmiths and book-eaters, jesters and spinners and dancers-in-the-air.

So why do I let someone I've never met make me feel inferior?


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=>Affirmation of Radness<=

I suspect it is our fine-tuned status sensors, for which I blame our monkey forbears.

I like knowing your and being in your menagerie.

Re: =>Affirmation of Radness<=

Thank you. I feel like ‘menagerie’ might be a bit of a possessive term. But then again, I am possessive of awesome people like you.

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