walking through the park at dawn and dusk, watching the geese settle on
the lake. There are beasties lurking in the grass, which leap out and
chomp on my exposed skin.
I look down at my puffy ankles and think "this is what my limbs will look like 40 and more years from now, peeping from under a tartan
rug." It's like gazing down a time-telescope and rather sobering.
I am popping anti-histamines, to stop me from scratching down to the bone.
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