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I want to lay myself on the gusts of wind
that rush from the mountains to the lands that lay at the base of their slopes, to feel the wind flapping my hair against the sides of my cheeks, my long curls dangling as I laugh with your hand besides mine, a smile on your face and a glow in your smile as you smile next to me; hanging onto a hang glider, gliding down the air currents of a mountain off the border of Oregon. |