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I hate paper. It's my kryptonite.
I have a couple of messenger bags stuffed full of important paperwork. Every time I need a particular paper I have to dig through both of them looking for it. I try to organize them every so often, but it never works...
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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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