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Omen


Soft like fingers gliding through silk hair, the breeze lilts and dips, whispers in your ear like sweet nothings from a sylph, playfully retreats, returns with urgency like an impatient pet tugging on the hem of your skirt. The clouds today are something right out of a Vermeer, blanketing the sky with puffs of angry god gray, backlit by diffused golden sunlight. Lazy and warm, catnaps and light reading and coziness, the embodiment of the Danish "hygge". Life is wonderful and everything is going right and you're fit to burst from wave after wave of dizzying happiness so why do you still sit around with that nagging feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop why oh why do you do that stop that.


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