Far off from these a slow and silent stream,
Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls
Her wat'ry Labyrinth, whereof who drinks,
Forthwith his former state and being forgets,
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.
That John Milton sure was a poetic one, huh?
About time it rained here. It feels nice. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll get a great, big fog.
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