roofbeer

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I was still writing my chapter. Every morning I would get up and think about times long past. Walking days in China. Then I would write my letter on my forehead:

Then I would go down to the beach. And then, when it looked as if there might be a nice sunset, I would run back to the sanatorium and sneak on top of the roof:

And sometimes I would take a cold one with me:

But only sometimes.



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