Saturday, May 3, 2014

My Refuge

From time to time, neither pyjamas nor uniform can keep me contained; from time to time, my cargo of bitten nails impose the kind of tax I can only welsh on, my cape of endurance is ragged all of a sudden and it violates the sanctity it's supposed to stand for, and the circumstances repudiate my sacrifices in the past and leave me with one option: to run and hide. So from time to time, I simply run to you inbox.

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