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Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.
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A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
Becky decided that it wasn’t time to release the doves of ambiguity just yet.
That was when I realized what I was really seeing out that window: Boot had finally released the Doves of Ambiguity, and they had all flocked to the tree sheltering the smoking area out by the emergency room, which has been my view from the hospital for two weeks now.
The doves of ambiguity fluterred excitedy, squawking and pooping in their amazement at what they could see; Becky pressed her arms through their flurried mass to separate them so she too could see the view of the beautiful and creative princess in her tower of ups and downs.
Although he’d never seen the Doves of Ambiguity, Peter worried that the two nesting in his head were only the scout birds, and that one day as dusk was settling in on his sleepy little imagination, the whole flock would arrive, squeezing into his head to begin building their summer nests.
Peter, that romantic, called them “Doves of Ambiguity,” but really they were Pigeons of Destiny and the flock that would soon arrive would be of epic, Hitchcockian proprortions.
The best way to hide your true nature is to use a little ambiguity.
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