� dusted � 2003-09-16 � 8:29 a.m. �
The ground is dusted white this morning... and I struggle to find the fairness.
My body folding and bending under the pressure of standing... of living... aching in knowing it has to sustain me. I hate it. My body... the snow and the pain I live to live or have lived.
I want to trade myself in.
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