And it is just as before, a clock work of sorts. An ever-burning and returning to thoughts of somewhere else.
Remember the jaw of the sideburned lion?
That line was sharp. I have thought of it for hours and have never tired.
I'm sure most others only glanced. It was afterall,
only a jaw to the untrained eye,
But it was, to one who was looking so intently,
A frame, as well as it's own masterpiece.
The frame from which the power of the face was held.
The strength to contrast with the softness of his eyes.
Will I ever forget how easily we remembered?
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