I recently threw out most of My ropes. Meters and meters of lovely cotton rope, keeping only the couple of coils of treated hemp, and although grieving, I dumped it. It was a mix of moving and Top-depression. It had been so long with nobody aching for My rope, begging for my hand, gasping and crying under My cane.
Now I am suddenly as busy as I can possibly desire to be, and I don't have My ropes any more. After years of never using them, three months after I throw them out, I miss them. Isn't that just exactly the way it is?
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