On the black bull with curved horns a pudgy little man sits cross-legged Control of passions, my father said. A girl and boy take turns somersaulting over bulls, placing hands on the back flipping between the horns. Playing with danger, my mom said. Another voice calls, Come here, says Selene, the bull-horned moon goddess, I open my crescent arms to you.
Thank you for taking the time to remember Dave. He saw your zeal and your unconventional ways and he felt…



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