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| Scotts Place |
The mist, nearly a fog, with a sense of the Sun faintly there, more a feeling, a presence felt but not actually there.
Through the mists of time, of Karma, slowly burning away the iniquities of time gone by, so much water under the bridge of human exploitation and the hope and prayers and salvation.
The glimpses of sunlight with pure joy and perhaps the journey of suffering may have been the rough file to smooth away the rough edges and perhaps humanity survives through the knowledge that all is well in the end -----if there ever is an end.
SHACK
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