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I hear you. I'm trapped in the DES. I wish I was at work. I have no idea why anyone would be on assistance by choice. I'd rather be back doing my crazy 10 hour nights...
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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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