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Walking A Thorny Path

Walking A Thorny Path. Thursday, 17 February 2011. And in his eyes. She saw her home.". I remember at the age of ten, leaning over my baby sister's cot, watching her sleep and repeating to myself that I would make myself remember this very scene, I would imprint it somewhere inside of me, untouched, to be summoned at will. The perfection of the curl on her forehead, her clenched fist beneath her flushed cheek, her eyelashes so lush, her tiny chest rising with every breath. Beads, lips moving in worship.

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Walking A Thorny Path | thornypath.blogspot.com Reviews

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Walking A Thorny Path. Thursday, 17 February 2011. And in his eyes. She saw her home.. I remember at the age of ten, leaning over my baby sister's cot, watching her sleep and repeating to myself that I would make myself remember this very scene, I would imprint it somewhere inside of me, untouched, to be summoned at will. The perfection of the curl on her forehead, her clenched fist beneath her flushed cheek, her eyelashes so lush, her tiny chest rising with every breath. Beads, lips moving in worship.

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Walking A Thorny Path | thornypath.blogspot.com Reviews

https://thornypath.blogspot.com

Walking A Thorny Path. Thursday, 17 February 2011. And in his eyes. She saw her home.". I remember at the age of ten, leaning over my baby sister's cot, watching her sleep and repeating to myself that I would make myself remember this very scene, I would imprint it somewhere inside of me, untouched, to be summoned at will. The perfection of the curl on her forehead, her clenched fist beneath her flushed cheek, her eyelashes so lush, her tiny chest rising with every breath. Beads, lips moving in worship.

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Walking A Thorny Path: February 2011

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Walking A Thorny Path. Thursday, 17 February 2011. And in his eyes. She saw her home.". I remember at the age of ten, leaning over my baby sister's cot, watching her sleep and repeating to myself that I would make myself remember this very scene, I would imprint it somewhere inside of me, untouched, to be summoned at will. The perfection of the curl on her forehead, her clenched fist beneath her flushed cheek, her eyelashes so lush, her tiny chest rising with every breath. Beads, lips moving in worship.

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Walking A Thorny Path. Thursday, 17 February 2011. And in his eyes. She saw her home.". Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Simple theme. Powered by Blogger.

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Walking A Thorny Path: An unbearable urge

http://thornypath.blogspot.com/2011/02/unbearable-urge.html

Walking A Thorny Path. Thursday, 17 February 2011. I remember at the age of ten, leaning over my baby sister's cot, watching her sleep and repeating to myself that I would make myself remember this very scene, I would imprint it somewhere inside of me, untouched, to be summoned at will. The perfection of the curl on her forehead, her clenched fist beneath her flushed cheek, her eyelashes so lush, her tiny chest rising with every breath. My mother kneeling on her prayer mat, slowly turning the tasbih.

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A True Talib ul-‘Ilm [Student of Sacred Knowledge] | damascus dreams

https://damascusdreams.wordpress.com/2007/11/25/a-true-talib-ul-ilm-student-of-sacred-knowledge

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Walking A Thorny Path

Walking A Thorny Path. Thursday, 17 February 2011. And in his eyes. She saw her home.". I remember at the age of ten, leaning over my baby sister's cot, watching her sleep and repeating to myself that I would make myself remember this very scene, I would imprint it somewhere inside of me, untouched, to be summoned at will. The perfection of the curl on her forehead, her clenched fist beneath her flushed cheek, her eyelashes so lush, her tiny chest rising with every breath. Beads, lips moving in worship.

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