Every night, I am presented with a truth and every night I only ever speak in it’s truth. The earth trembles, harder. I won’t be going back to the weed store again. When I mean now, I need not to say it again. I’m going on a vacation, by September. My declaration of all. Godspeed.
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The earth keeps getting. Tell me the Truth. Destroy the omens and bide me time.
Please.
I think I’ll just straight it to France, though.
Peace
The variables is that if I leave now and can make it in time, back to France, and if perhaps time will be bided still then I may be able to save my family from the States. That is the only variable now. I’m logging off.