Phuck that
If you’re using the word “phial” instead of “vial” in 2025 (and you’re not writing a historical novel), it’s kinda douchy.
Morning symphony
It’s 6:20 in the morning and at least five roosters are crowing in my neighborhood. Their clarion voices are mingled with the drone of hundreds of doves, the buzz of hummingbirds, noisy grackles and the melody of mockingbirds. Wednesday is LIT in birdland.
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