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re Gordon’s email

Flanders,

On my run tonight, a cacophony: dried leaves crunching underfoot, the rustle of plants as I brush past, screeching cicadas, Alice’s dog-pants, my own breathing, rocks tumbling down the hill, dogs howling at my approach, and, still! the sound of people, penetrating the woods.

I think to myself, I need to go deeper. When I return from the south, when the woods no longer burn. I don’t care much about speed. I want to run on trail, for hours on end, across multiple days, making no sound and leaving no trace. A wild woman running. Ha!

I know we said no politics, but, mate, it is brilliant not to wake to news about Trump. I know, I know it could still all go south, but we have to hope that the liberals don’t botch this up. Because if the extreme of the Republican party returns, it will be with a vengeance. Your politics would be entertaining, if the rest of the world didn’t get tossed around in its wake.

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