What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?
That about sums it up for me.
Ned? Ned Ryerson?!
You like boats, but not the ocean. You go to a lake in summer with your family up in the mountains. There’s a long wooden dock and a boathouse with boards missing from the roof, and a place you used to crawl underneath to be alone. You’re a sucker for French poetry and rhinestones. You’re very generous. You’re kind to strangers and children, and when you stand in the snow you look like an angel.
How are you doing this?
I told you. I wake up every day, right here, right in Punxsutawney, and it’s always February 2nd, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
How appropriate
It’s the Mind
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