Remember what?

The Angel of Hearth and Home (1937) by Max Ernst

I pressed you between the pages. You were my good luck charm, a pleasant diversion, a soothing talisman, something to stop and admire occasionally, only when I was procrastinating, only when I paused mid-sentence and lost the thread, only when a day melted into a daydream, only when I was feeling a tiny bi…

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