Between those Lines

And with this letter, my dearest All, you'll need to read between the lines. As in, when I say that there is only one week left in March, You should think, good heavens, I must get cracking on writing a letter of my own! And when I say that the amount of electricity in the air has increased over the last couple of days, well, I am yet unsure what that might mean. Between the swampy lines, there is some piece of something that is not at all stinky- it has nothing to do with the mire in which it exists.

With Warmest Regards,


PS- I'd like to apologize for the particular nastiness of this letter. I had hoped that there would be hope for that birdthing to grow up and be a beautiful quetzal or some bird of paradise, but it appears that if it ever makes past its embryonic state, though unlikely, it will turn out to be a chicken with too many limbs. So, to you who say "woe is me," just remember that it could be worse. You could be a deformed embryonic chicken that is getting munched on by giant disembodied teeth.

There's always that.

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