Bird whisperer Angela Schmold, with a mustered pocket full of relished things. One day in a Costco parking lot, an old woman shook me by the collard greens when she asked, “where have the funny pages gone?” My fingertips itched for the World Wide Web, but, instead, I circled a few kilometres back to my desk. I could’ve eaten my destiny, it was so thick. Maybe the universe could slice it next time. Ever since, I’ve detailed a few pages of crisscrossing coincidence and the consecutive consequence of unattended attention. While I still don’t have all the answers, I’m putting everything I’ve got into getting the good gets.
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