• Rusty Tools

    I have little faith in my tools. They are rusted, poorly kept, and blunt. As I walk through the wilderness, my pack rattles it's sparse contents, revealing all the hollow spots, the absence. I doubt the rations will see me through. I do the maths in my head and the outlook is not hopeful. A miracle is what I think I need. A rescue party. More capable people, with fancy, shiny tools. And yet, even barefoot, even half-starved and aching, worn ...

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    Tags:
    hope,
    survival,
    strength,
    ;,
    eating-disorder;
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