Some imagery may not be appropriate for underage llama-blog readers.
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I find it weird to think we're all walking around with potential expiration dates stamped on our heads, by fate, by misfortune, by genetic predisposition.
I don't normally think of people as walking gallons of milk, waiting to be past due, but death freaks me out.
Tuesday night, I attended shiva service for the father of one of my HBHA ( Read more... )