Sunday, June 22, 2008

June 22, 2008

Pretty pink roses are burning brown. Talkative people are mum. Nice people are mean and mean people are too hot to bother. Everyone is walking slowly. The grocery stores have sold out of ice. Whether or not it is really 118 degrees I cannot tell but I can tell you it might as well be 1018 degress because that's what it feels like.


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