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Cameron AvesonLeaving the BackcountryWhistling into the empty one boot up on a fallen thickets, listen for the faint the call, the long clear note yellow rainfly soaked with dark blunted, all the food gone. bristles glistening in new the way distance beckons, back, hoping for the return Until I return. Until I leave. burdened, exhausted, following.
Return to Volume 7.3 |
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