message in a bottle

To whomever it may concern,

I have been waiting for 369 days, and I have not seen ship nor sail. I am writing this message, so that perhaps by divine influence someone will hear of my story. I have resigned myself to death by high strung high maintenance companions and an extraordinary large ratio of rice to veggies. My story is a sad one. a long one and with very very few twists and turns. And hardly any of the details matter to the plot. To be honest we walk. we sweat. I listen to my comp complain about how we walk and sweat. And then we talk to some people, and then we ask for water well my comp does for about every house it goes something like this in about every house sister, a grand favor. . . do you have a little water. . . it"s not so bad, but death by repeatism  is still death.  We have been having a little success, but mostly it comes in crazy ways and involves more of this spirit thing then us.

It’s a long story, and I won't try to kill you with the details, so I will jump to the end.

In the apartment of las flores manzana unremembered lote whoknewinthefirstplace. Lived two young men. one white. the other black. they lived. they worked. one cleaned. the other not so much. one cooked. the other too but not as good. And they lived there in a state much like that of the cold war. Passing hot point amidst the freezing cold of a war not fought. But so it is and so it was and here I resign myself to die.

To those who will know this dreadful story,

I'm sorry,

Elder Preece