and signs on the road make even less sense. but still they safely get you home, somehow. eventually.
but coffee still circulating and me sleepless preposterously late... so i end up here, again. after all, the constant urge to continuously narrate my life is official by now. like when people find me in the street, speaking with myself while biking and gesturing... no, i am not using a mobile with a headphone. i'm ok. i'm just speaking with myself.
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