Old stamps sparkle in water, some are tiny exquisite works of art, so colourful. Coarse what I am going to do with them remains to be seen. They will probably be homed in a pretty tin but at least taking less room while waiting for inspiration to strike.
White dove lounging in J's small bowl of water, looks out at me with cool calm eye.
A whisper of pastel pink, the first sign of blossom. Sharp yellow beak spears a dark red cranberry, gulp gone.
bit of that
People who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those who are doing it.
congratulations Mr president
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