The dust is coming free of my skin, finally. I can breathe without coughing. Piles sit unattended in the other room, waiting sorting, packing. It’s done. Did it really happen? Like that? After so much sturm und drang, did so few really see it? Fitting, in a way. Don’t know how to process it, yet. Guess this is how it starts. Really is a shame, so much work, so little return. C’est la vie.

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