Genrik Aarrestad Uldalen

Worry dreams this morning. Lots of running, abandonment, stress.

A sword that jumped from one person to the next, turning them into killers that were hunting me, hunting me. A radio that talked so they could find me.

Making a slingshot that would project me off my high brick building, onto the tiny blue and white buildings below. I knew I would die.

Good morning brain, what were you thinking?

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