I was looking through some old journals, and found this, from 2004:
The text reads, « Just before we began to play [badminton] I looked up at the sky and saw small patches of bright blue peeking out between big fluffy white clouds mixed with grey. One black crow flew past. »
You always let him win. 🙂
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No, actually he was very good. I did try to win; maybe it was psychological 😏
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