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March 24, 2006
My illness is a leaden blanket which I struggle to cast aside. I look so pale, but I also feel pale, deep inside. The once vibrant, swirling colours of my life force keep getting washed away, along with the breathless sparkle that used to dance me through the star filled nights. There are still some muted smudges of colour, but the grey hues dominate the landscape. Occasionally there is a painter who skilfully uses his brush and palette to restore a miasma of pigments, but this project needs long term restoration and I fear that it can never be completed.