She set the camera and lightmeter down beneath a tree, looking on with satisfaction at the view of the Talmadge. Overhead a noisy bird concurred and gave her his blessing
Days like these she remembered the dream of the owl biting her hands, and woefully gave thanks that it had not recurred.
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Hi Libby: thanks for stopping by my blog and for leaving a message (re: flying). I like your writing.
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