I pray you will forgive me my silence.

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This week the Wild Woman of Borneo was recaptured after some months on the lam. She’s behind bars and likely to remain there, cooling her heels, a good long time. I’m not going to go into details, out of deference to some kind of privacy, but she has generally been wreaking havoc on friend and foe alike, leaving a swath of destruction and terror not unlike a particularly malevolent tornado.

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We are yet huddled in the wreckage, aghast at the sunlight pouring into the basement through what we had imagined to be the solid foundation of our lives.

And yet, and yet.

Maybe the tornado is the wrong metaphor. Maybe she’s a dirty bomb, or something grander.

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It seems everything must be burned.

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I know these are but small troubles, and everywhere you look things are worse, and worse still.

I got no right to go on about it.

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Yet I am sore put out.

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I do not think that all things happen for a reason. I do not believe this is all meant to be.

I believe that some people bring evil into the world because it is what they want to see.

I do not think this is in any way a good thing.

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I have, in point of fact, set my very life against it.

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Is that my lesson here?

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fuck if I know.

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Namaste.

And may you be spared.

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(ps- don’t feel like you have to say anything. I know you love me. I do.)

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