Not much walking this month. Just in the house. Moving. 27 years. 13 rooms. Up down, up down. Living room, bed. Loft, heavy, memories, weight, stuff, so much stuff. Loaded. The garden, the plants, my babies. Covid. The dreaded. Bed. Walk in my head. Proxy walks. Last rounds. The wood. The familiar. No wood to come. Up down. Living room. Kitchen. Loft. Shed. Dining room. Bedroom. Another. Another. The more goes. The less it is mine. One more walk. Round it all. That is it. The movers turn the drive corner.
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