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October 16, 2010
It was the smell of broken and oozing plants that seeped out of our pores long after we had washed the green stains from our skin. People sniffed the air around us and wrinkled their noses.

"Have you been camping?"

"No."

"Hiking?"

"No."

"Oh... I thought... Well, never mind." and they left us alone, still sniffing.

It was our secret--how our legs and backs and arms came to be scratched by thorns, and how those rock shaped bruises imprinted themselves on our hips.

"Let's leave again." I begged. "Let's disappear this time and never come back."

And you agreed.