The Unbearable Lightness of Nothing Much to Do

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Much Ado About Nothing. Nothing much to do. Perhaps mellowed souls look to stillness, exquisite silence. Of a world succumbed to eventual slumber. Long afternoons. Lazy mornings. Where everything happens to the clop clop clop of slow grinding hooves. Daily mantras of scoring at pool, decadence in the cleanest oil palm festered air one can find. I

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