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My eyes were looking better. Much better actually:


So I figured that the secret medicine must have worked.

It seemed only logical to make more:

more medicine

Later that day, I went outside and had a bowl of spicy soup:

spicy soup

It was very good, that soup.

And on the way back I took an artsy-fartsy picture of one of the old telephones outside of the sanatorium:


All of this could only mean that I was getting better.

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