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I don't know if you realized this, but I'm PSYCHIC. Yes, that's right: we had pancakes for dinner last night.
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Yesterday, driving home from work, a hawk rose and swooped alongside just as I drove up past it. For a second I thought it would swerve towards the car, and then I thought it was going to fly AT the car, but at the last moment it sheered up and away. I continued driving, thinking, "I nearly clocked a hawk." Then I said it 5 times fast in the hopes that I had created a new tongue-twister, but alas, no.
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Lyckan är som solen gul, som en maskros lyser den igenom vår gardin, glassen smakar apelsin...Är lika gul som vårans båt, gul är kärleken, gul som sommaren. Lyckan är en gul kantarell, gömd under gula löv. På min palett finns bara gul.
Happiness is like the golden sun, like a dandelion shining through our curtain, ice cream tastes like oranges. It's gold like our boat, gold like love, gold like the summer. Happiness is a yellow chantarelle, hidden beneath golden leaves. My palette holds only gold.
That's the sun today: low and bright, golden winter sun, sharp relief of shadows cut against the blue of an unmarked sky.
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You sat there and said "clocked a hawk" five times, didn't you?! :D
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