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11:57p

Memories that can be sold for £50 a year... I'm watching my cat dream. I think her dreams have a different texture to mine.
My back aches rather from yesterday - I must remind myself, that should it become necessary to become a pony for a good quarter-mile again, that it is advisable to warm up first. Isabelle still rocks, though, for a child. At around 12-3am [looks at clock] well, yesterday now, a different yesterday from the last sentence, I was discovering that that molass stuff I was making pseudopepparkaka with made for a working, if mutated, pepparkashus...I did claim, in the morning, that the snow in the area was simply much polluted and as such the odd brownish colour of the 'icy' roof was a comment on the state of the planet. Went down to the grandparents' tod- yesterday, received...stuff...went out for a long walk in the cold and bid a group of strangers good yuletide as though I were not city-bred at all and did not fear such comment would get me knifed...found the skeleton of a hare, and a bag to bring some of it back in. So far I have done no work, and lived nearly exclusively on variations of cake.

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