...around the furniture of my mind. I've managed to clean up the muddy footprints of the people who've walked through here. It's been through a few Hairs of the Dog too, apparently (Of course I don't remember the dogs' visits themselves). All vaccumed up now, which leaves me with the gloomy realisation that what I have left here is a tiny little holocaust bunker where I seek shelter from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and not much else.
I want fresh air, blue skies, green trees and lots of peace and quiet. I want a beach.
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