If not in Amsterdam, in that place.
I am falling in love with its stream of consciousness possibly due to the meteric cages I have axed down in my attempt to stop justifying the have-beens.
It seems like a distant memory, and come to think of it, I was just in a taxi, momentarily reflecting on all the bitterness it has caused me, more rooted, weirdly enough, but insignificant in magnitude.
But Craneley's gonna make it, and everything's going to be fine.
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