A cosy day

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T’was a cosy day:

cold January air, fine drizzle.
tea,
blanket,
book.
hubby with a guitar,
Macintosh,
and a cat..

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Nausea

Now I’m going to be like Anny, I’m going to outlive myself. Eat, sleep. Sleep, eat. Exist slowly, gently, like these trees, like a puddle of water, like the red seat in the tram. -Antoine Roquentin

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