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2003-01-17 || 11:30 a.m. || eastbound traffic || alphabetizing the facts for reference later: past girlfriends and favorite foods and childhood addresses, floating in the space of a compact car like paper airplanes folded from the most precious of index cards. senses refined and you are noticing the texture of plastic of the dashboard, the heat of sunlight on vinyl, the change in his voice when you are slowing to a stop in freeway traffic and you grab his hand honestly expecting some kind of electric spark. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |