July 24, 2004


I grow weary of this incessant work. My lungs are stale under it's dreary murk. I long for a breath of fresh air. Soon I just won't care.

I really must go on a bike ride. And a hike. A real hike. A hike for days. If only I knew a single sole without asthma.

Posted by wschuller at July 24, 2004 11:48 PM
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