In the River of Watered-down Oatmeal
In the River of Watered-downĀ Oatmeal
didnāt correct him at the time. How could I? We were barely friends. It was a message overheard, like some piece of rotten seaweed floating in the river of his discontent, and I wasnāt about to fish it out then kindly request he stop telling lies. And was it even a lie? Anything can be a lie if it diverts from your idea of truth. Hereās (basically) what was said: Iāll never write for a brandā¦
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