Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventeen
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It’s probably only 4:00am and I should just close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.
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Awake again. Still dark. Not yet 4:00.
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I stare at the reflection of the streetlight in a puddle of water. Where did the water come from? Everything else is so dry.
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No river, only bed.
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She makes a joke and I laugh while trying to hold the pose, abs tight, legs quivering.
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The day already feels long.
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So hungry.
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The hustle and bustle of harvest. We taste the lees from one of the barrels, eat a few chardonnay grapes, move in and out of the way of the forklifts.
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Everything looks different.
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I try to write the post in my head and pray that bits of it will stay there long enough for me to remember.
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It took me over an hour but they are always worth it. Always.
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Start over again tomorrow.