Packet. The kind of hot ones I'd want are not available this side of the Atlantic  I just really want salty food, my stomach is still not the better of my T-reaction on Tuesday. Some Gatorade'd be good too.
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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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