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When We Were So Bad We Were Good September 3, 2015

Posted by The Typist in cryptical envelopment, je me souviens, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street.
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So close to the mark, I heard the bullet whiz by. Still, invisibly I bled. Visibly, if you were here to see my eyes, the lingering glimmer of the memory of tears, brimming at the edge of recall.

4620. When We Were Bad
September 3, 2015 at 11:32am
Our odd, mismatched sort of friendship declined and neither made any effort to revive it. There was bloodguilt between us, we shared an evil secret, a hateful revelation (Katherine Anne Porter, “St. Augustine and the Bullfight”).

Some of the people I’ve been with, I’d never tell you about: I’d be too ashamed. I’m still not sorry I got together with them, though. If it hadn’t been for those partners in crime, I don’t think I’d ever have seen how much I like being bad.
Or how much I can try to be better.
————————————–
Note: In the complete darkness . . . You could see a long way (Raymond Chandler, Farewell, My Lovely)

— Jeff Nunokawa Note 4620 on Facebook.

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