09 July 2010

Three years ago I sat outside just like tonight, daylight fading, the neighbourhood getting quiet, the bat doing its rounds from the Douglas fir, the occasional tuktuktuk from a boat or the sound of trains from the other side of the river.
Only then I had just had a small pice of bone clipped off my upper right jaw, after five previous oral surgery adventures in the space of 12 weeks and was going round the bend with pain.

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