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Goal: 100 words, exactly.

Long before dawn’s light, worn wheels whistle across rattling railways like a saber snuggly settled against America’s hip. Not posturing. Promising.

Unsheathed from the final metropolitan; truing life’s warped existential edges against the grindstone of mid-West plains, restoring luster lost through ill-parried unexpected experiences, coddled expectations, and superficial rights.

Forge through the Rockies, ancient and forever; grind away nicks and dents against untamed ever-emerald brush wet on freshly melted snow. Refining—refinding my willpower, my purpose.

Against the setting sun quenched in the Pacific on the anvil of the horizon, my journey restores my whittled life not yet tarnished beyond repair.

 

 

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