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I need to take a little break from all this. Things to do. But this morning I worked on the summer cat. He has been around. In the scrap basket for a while. Even in summer he remembers and considers winter. He was born in Winter.
It's a tough life. But even so, as we know, seasoning can make you delicious. When I get around to it, I am going to give this one a window. To watch the winter through. But now it's summer.
So this little game is sort of like a rescue. They are in there. In the scrap pile. I can see them. You can't see them. But I know they are there. A scrap of self can be like that. Like a story trapped in the air. It is kind of like magic, Poof!, how we can make a story appear. It was sometimes easier in simpler times. The story could be quite small and seem so big. And no one would laugh. They would always listen.
This cat is safe, but her mind is still wandering.