The sleeping snakes replace the threads of your dressing gown, but you can probably never be sure. So go off and sail for India instead, around the Cape of Good Hope, har de har ha ha. Your neck is still stiff, following the fall down the embankment some part of your lover thought you should take in the darkness rather than return from the midnight walk back to the house, please, please say something, something, say you’re alive, come on, let’s go back to the house. Wake up, wake up, wake up.

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