Every moment points toward the aftermath
I have a headache. I have a kitsune by
mamishka. I have a CD from
farwing. I have five e-mail addresses, two business cards, a salt and oatmeal cookie, and a translation from the Turkish. I had some very good conversations. I have things I need to write.
I think there should be firecrackers tomorrow.
I think there should be firecrackers tomorrow.

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Also, hope your headache disappears quickly.
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It's a printed kitsune: not the original lino-block (because that sold before I got anywhere near the art show), but a beautiful copy, touched up after reprinting with black and silver inks. There are crescent moons on the sleeves of her robe. I want to write
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A kitsune you have? Is this a stuffed kitsune, or a drawn kitsune, or an actual fox spirit? Whatever sort of kitsune this is, I hope you enjoy the company of him, her, or it, and vice-versa.
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Thank you. See reply above: it's a her, and on paper. An actual kitsune might spectacularly disarrange my life. Alas.
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An actual kitsune might spectacularly disarrange my life.
This is probably true. And, unfortunately, most likely not in a good way.
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TomorrowLater today there should be singing and cheers--and will be, I imagine.no subject
I hope!
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Erk. I don't believe so. E-mail me!