She has branched off our big branch our own child, drinking the same sap and her leaves shall fall as if our own on an autumn earth, from the branch.

My own blood relatives keep flowing along with hers streaming in my flow.This baby is her branch but mine too in the branch, branching off my own.

She is the same branch, as the man in the shirt-sleeves staring in space unremittingly from my whitest wall from among dozen heads stopping to say nothing, branching their own.


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