ππππ ππππππ’ πππππππ ππ:@cueballCorrupted 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 You will never be whole again πΌπππππ’ πππ
I wΙ¨lπ π§ο»vο»r Ρο» π΄Ι¦π Ύ1e πΖβπΆπ§.
I invited the men of my Gang for a nice feast. Finely roasted turkey, slow cooked. Meat melting off the bones. Fine quality Beer; not the swill that tastes like piss. I let them feast, and for little Damara, though she cannot drink, I baked a nice apple pie, just for her. She didn't have to share it with anyone. The air was light in the Manor. And the pain of our existence was made lighter by jubilance and mirth. Looking out into the forest, I wish this weight were easier on them. All I can do is make things a little bit easier, and hope one day, we can all rest easy. Their eyes closing to a better probabilistic determination of a world more worthy to carry their spirits along.
I'm sorry, but whatever you're trying to convey, I.. Don't know if I can bring myself to really understand. It feels like tapping the glass on an aquarium tunnel. Sorry, Scratched Doctor.
This is just basic interpretation of the abstract, here, but; Freedom for you would be drowning for me, unfortunately. I really wish I could point you to someone else who could help.