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Wheel's on fire

No one told me Jane was back on a regularlike basis, and spitting cinders. Ditto Woebot. Give thanks indeed.

Btw, there's no better way to spend a day where culture and the course of a year suggest you think hard about the concept of "thanks" than by waking late, sampling patio homegrown, and taking a long stroll through the adopted city of your own choosing, where light and old stone seem to have forged some kind of compact to make everything, for once, seem permanent and within reach.

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