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      The air is sharp in my lungs.

      I’m dizzied

      from hunger,

      or a lack of sleep,

      or from the sweet strangeness

      of my circumstance.

      If I had waited just a few hours more,

      Mr. Chapman would have found me

      still buried beneath the snow.

      But I didn’t wait;

      I pulled myself out of that place

      and set to walking.

      I left a trail for Mr. Chapman

      to come to me.