11,041 vagabonds plus:
no one like you
You, Tatyana, say the sound of the setting Sun is wondrous, and I ask you, Does it sound like bacon sizzling. I've never heard, You only stop once, turn, and I see you're laughing. You're not ready for eternity to end just yet, I know, I can see you walking with purpose, long strides like a giraffe, swift as an impala, distant white clouds under a cobalt sky. You want to see it up close, slowing to gawk like a long-neck at a train derailment, don't you? Yes, I am slow to write, deadline is near, I drop pad and pencil in the barren grass by the railroad and accompany you to the end of the world.
photo by Bruno Dayan
nine lives on
So, I invited you to bring a dog along out of my starting gate into blogland. And I'm still a dog person. It just seemed more appropriate to post this vagabond from Italy for the ninth year anniversary.
I'm still going to the dogs. Thanks for visiting all these years.
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