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My guitar case just became a clothes hanger and like everything these mornings, it makes me weep like a baby. I'm not sure I can take the guitar with me. I make such beautiful outfits from the clothes I'm giving away and wonder if I'll be adequately clothed with what's left. Every beep means a task from work, and my bones are scared.
I've got eleven daze.
And more isolated by the moment.
It makes the departure a bit easier - especially now that I've got the dump.
it makes me laugh I guess at this point. In Otown by this lake, you never need screens and the windows are always open. That one mosquito. That one in all the city. Can find me.
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