I must say that I have been living and breathing a bit too much of Zimbabwe of late. It's cloying soil is getting into my lungs. I must relent. There's nothing I can do about that fateful situation in any case.
Last night I dreamt I met some wierd-ass hermit-shaman, clambering all over the rocky, dry hills.
I've been working hard, but I don't give myself the time to have a break. I ought to, and yet do not.
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