Limbo

There's a bandwagon coming down the road. It's full of people wearing bowties and fezzes, turtlenecks and tweed suits, leather jackets and red hoodies. There's even an entourage of yellow, blue and red shirts.

I tell myself there's no space for me to go with them; it's too small, there's no room. But appearances are deceiving; it's bigger on the inside. So I take their hands

and jump onto the bandwagon.

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