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03/09/12(Fri)19:42 No.491250 File: 1331340147.png-(81 KB, 271x309, 1325374210565.png)
>Day 24 since impact >First Horse
>A new day dawn on board the SS Fagballs. I have not slept, so I cannot wake up. However I often fear none of us can wake up. Not from this nightmare. >I wonder if the ocean breeze could help me shed some fatigue, and head out to deck. The breeze is warm and smells of ammonia. This is now my home, I remind myself. Exile or not, a home is a home. Best make what I can of it. >I do not care to get the telescope, for I can guess what is beyond the horizon. Instead I gleem at what hops around the boat in the first rays of dawn. Five tripfags fighting over some stale bread. A rollboard for fucking. An introspective post regarding purple pony. A playful carp, interrupting the actions of Urist. >With a sigh I lift my eyes upwards and gaze at the heavens. The starts are strange and alien, not at all like the sky of the old homeland. A few clouds gather, heralding a coming storm. Not many hours now, I remind myself. In but a few hours, the rain will give us new life. With it, we may yet live another week. This lifts my heart, but it remains ever heavy. The dry season is but a few weeks away, and I fear we cannot survive it so far from our home. >Truly these are dire times for us all. How much longer now until we sink beneath the waves? |