Mamihlapinatapei: A Translation

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 The ticking, tocking bird song

And ‘isn’t this nice’.

The up, down,

Cross hatch

And some other chairs.

Brushed and blushed skin.

The throats moisture,

Left in imprints across dark wood.

Once it fades,

She answers the question he didn’t ask.

A wordless yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are reluctant to start. – Mamihlapinatapei

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