The story of truth

There once was a man, who lived without plan, who didn’t know quite what to do. He ran hither and thither and played on the zither or was it a didgeridoo. After some thought and some glasses of port he treated himself to a powdery snort. He rose from the chair, took a deep breath of air and started to do what he ought. This ponderous man, went to Uzbekistan on a road that was easy as silk. His time there was spent in bazaars of Tashkent buying trinkets and things of that ilk. Bizarrely bazaars are not famous for cars but he wanted to travel much more. A carpet he choose and fantastically rose was it drug or a rug I’m not sure. He was up in the air and he hadn’t care and he lost himself inside his dreams. He started to feel that his life was unreal and that all was not just as it seems. A trip can be fun for a party of one and it starts at reality’s end. Just free up your mind and maybe you’ll find that the truth is a flexible friend.

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