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“Rain, with patience and the greed of love to hold, will slowly erase his name and everything it touches, it always sounds like a eulogy to me, the sky trying to figure out what to say about loss, and making a mess of it like the rest of us.” — Bob Hicok
Rain, with patience
and the greed of love
to hold, will slowly erase his name
and everything it touches, it always sounds
like a eulogy to me, the sky
trying to figure out what to say
about loss, and making a mess of it
like the rest of us.