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"I had, in the end, resorted to simply lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling fan that was above me – just watching blatantly as it slowly twirled around and around like a saddened dancer. I had to look away when I realised that I felt sorry for the poor little ceiling fan, imprisoned up there just as I was, destined to twirl away for the rest of his days until his metal rusts and the power goes out." - Jeanette Eliason Abigail827Please respect copyright.PENANA04rrCEC1xJ