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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac


It was a silent thought, not because I was weak but she never had the appetite for adventure and hardly hid that trait, but it was always something that intrigued our hearts. We, well me, continued rowing into the unknown, going where the seas would take us, and soon enough there were vague signs of life. We heard in a distance sounds of quite possible a horn, and then in another blind corner a rustling of leaves in a distance. However, we knew not to chase the rabbit. We stayed put, hope for a sign. The fear of the night was not kind. It felt miserable, and then painful, and finally it was morning.

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