Misty sees you wandering the halls. It is not easy for you as flesh is pressed in uncomely ways. Always rubbed the wrong way; trousers are a bitch with which you must compromise. Your body longs to wrap itself in a tupenu.
But you are seen through the lens of love. Your body of work is not about your body. Misty understands you stand alone in your quest for greener shores. She sings songs of lost continents to help you rearrange the rubble out of which a new world will arise.
The heart can be split only once.
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