I Hart, Africa

That is I- Hart, Africa. Africa Hart. That is who I am and that is the person sat in my bed writing this, to you; if you are sat in your bed reading this, it is me you are listening to.

Or maybe I am reading to myself in my own head and actually, really, nobody (that’s possibly you) is interested. Perhaps it is a self-indulgent self-help shower of shite.

An attempt, by me, to appease I, Africa.

And certainly not you, you.

Probably.

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