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And now my stomach starts. If my mind can't distract me by shutting down, my tummy'll take over by making sure I have to run to the bathroom if I don't get a handle on myself... Gah! How am I ever going to get through this s***!
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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