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So it's witching hour for me it lasts about an hour I go to go outside to sit in my spot, my spot that no longer is mine it was the place I sat to smoke. We had a huge storm the other day and there are leaves from our huge jacaranda tree still laying on my chair. They won't be moved unless they decide to leave because I won't be sitting there for a while there's no need at the moment. I need to remove my triggers and even though its the best spot in the yard, purple flowers dance around your head they hang so low and kept me in company while I smoked I won't be going back until I'm off these patches. I won't smoke I'm too strong and don't want to go back to that cloud, you know the cloud nicotine rains down on you? I'm sitting with my son on the other side of the garden looking at my spot I'm watching him draw on the cement with chalk and he draws me and says "mum this is you, you know you don't stink you smell like flowers" I look at him and I look at my spot and know I've chosen the right place to be.
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