Like snow left on the mountains in summer. I feel my warm blood moving inside of me and I am reminded that I am living. My soul will have its home in the rising of the sun. If you feel sad, look at the dawn with all of its beauty. You will find me there.
joey: *pummels your general viscinity with flying mongeese* Meg: mon-- what? joey: im always confused about that one Meg: mongi? joey: whats the plural of mongoose Meg: many mongoose.... joey: mongooses Meg: well, geese is right for goose... but geeses sounds odd