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In your bed, behind the pages of a good book, you can completely forget you are living in a dirty, arid shit-hole. The better the book, the harder it hits you when you step outside, look around, and realize, "Shit. I'm still in fucking Iraq." The inevitable blast of 106 degree Fahrenheit, 20 knot wind doesn’t help either. The only remedy for that abrupt onset of depression is to go back into the air conditioning and look at your bank account to verify that you are, in fact, being reasonably compensated. |
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