Sunday, January 18, 2009

Sleepless in Iva


Tossing and turning in my bed, contemplating the infinite number of scenarios and words to be spoken, life seems the same as before. The criminal walks freely, albeit sheepishly. My host family is considerate almost to a flaw in hopes the incidents are soon to be forgotten or forgiven again. If I acquiesce my moral fiber is sacrificed to the gods of expediency and hypocrisy. If I press my case, the pain may be unendurable.

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