"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,/And what I assume you shall assume,/For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.//I loafe and invite my soul,/I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass."
I'm so bloody jealous you all have flowers already.
You don't have any daffodils, tulips, or crocuses out there yet? No cherries, magnolias, or other fruit trees? Where the hell is Chicago, in the Arctic?
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