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We view the hill down to the valley floor, we know that we must climb the other side, we have no map, no guide yet we travel, hopeful to arrive a trip that each and every one of us must make a journey that we take, moving ever onwards slow at dawn, and slower still at dusk, we do not leave because we will we leave because we must, driven eels, who know the great sargasso sea awaits, we shake the fickle hand of fate and take whatever circumstance may come to be, feet first, to swim the ocean of our destiny
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