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Sleep is fitful and only possible after the exhaustion of constant shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It feels like my body has been covered in blows – the rocks are bruising me. Its getting colder. The sun is lower; It beams through a window and illuminates the details of what hovers above me. I am one of those web bound carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squishes begin — shadowy flutters of darting fantoms…