Earthquake weather, hot wind rips down the canyons to rattle your windows and lick your ears with its arid breath. Midnight and suddenly all the nights chill is gone, replaced are crickets with the slapping of tree branches and the rush of air. The huge Mastiff in your bed shiver and twitches, there will be no more sleep tonight. You try to write but novels characters plight seem inconsequential next to the raging of this mother biosphere we all call home. It's earthquake weather in the city of angeles and no one is at peace.
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What the hecks at the post office?