I don't fuckin know don't ask

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    living in the countryside really strikes the fear of god into you at the most random moments. you’ll just make eye contact with a cow or stare for too long into a brook and all of a sudden you’ll think something like “these are old bones and i am merely a passing occupant” and then you have to go and put the kettle on to cope


    the hare staring at me from across the field: which one of your lives is this?

    me, legging it: okay tea time i think