I set more traps, try to anticipate moves and be one step ahead of a rodent brain, keep expecting the sound of guillotines when none are to come. I pack my bag.
There was a time when every day did not begin in a brace, a time when mornings arrived with sore limbs and easy smiles, but it's hard to remember it now. How light a spirit can be, how heavy.
The problem with taking this
one day at a time
is eventually you
will run out of days.
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