Press close, bare-bosomed Night!
Press close, magnetic,nourishing Night!
Night of south winds!
Night of the large, few stars!
Still, nodding Night!
Mad, naked, Summer Night!
- Walt Whitman
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currently reading
"taught from their infancy that beauty is woman’s sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and, roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison,"
currently listening to
Self Portrait, by Bob Dylan
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