The gibbons of the world know what time it is. That's right - time to leave Athens and go down South, where there's gold in the hills that'll come in handy when my atomic family packs it up and heads Nawth. "Not yet, though," the gibbons croon, "give it another month and then go. Spring will have sprung, buffalo bill will no longer be defunct, and the world will be pulsing with sunlight and mud." Have you hugged your gibbon today?
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