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it was a dry holiday

when you told me about the

space between africa and brazil, how it was

not as far as one would think, but that it

felt like the

path from our villa to the sea was even longer.  at

the night I went out to stroll by the

beach, but then

different bees chased me

to the pinnacle, at our terrace and I looked

down, there were africans wrestling with

an angel, two of them, one of them

represented us and the other our children.  they weren’t sleeping

well either, the heat in madeira was too much

and we were only just inventing AC.

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