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Rio's Attic: Celebrating the Life and Times of a Dearly Missed River Phoenix
My own words can't describe how I still miss you, River.
I turn to those of another to describe my emptiness:

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

--W.H. Auden

Jenne - Hollywood, USA
April 26, 1999

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