witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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My grandfather just picked a rose from our garden and as he handed it to my grandmother he told her that it smelled of her but that its beauty and grace could never amount to hers.

It's sounds far better in persian, but it's still sweet. I like the fact that they are still in love. That is what I want to be; still in love. I'll settle for simply "in love".

8:48 p.m. - Wednesday, Sept. 21, 2005

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