15th April 1671

I cant wake myself from bad dreams or untie myself from trouble, fountains throw coins as if to swamp credence but I am burdened by sorrow, I am alone as twilight falls onto empty fields leaving me to walk as a soft limbed statue into future times of faded tales that no one will want to tell. They say the coffin is a home to everyone eventually and I know now that I shall treat it as a friend.

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