Day sixteen.  

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The fierce hunger and the subtle bragging of those on distant shores where wild game is rich and plentiful has begun to take its toll. I dreamt of chicken last night. Endless fields of roasted chicken. I ran out of my hut and threw myself at the nearest chicken to catch a meal, but it crumbled between my fingers. It was a sand chicken.


P.S. Send help.

This entry was posted at Wednesday, October 28, 2009 and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

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