Twelve hours
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Twelve hours 6.42 p.m. January 17th The doors signalled the end. They signalled the end of the journey, the end of the obsessive excuse making and theory-formulating process that had lead him here. It was these doors that told him it was over; he had now to face reality. He often considered them as the gates to hell, by the very nature of what goes on behind them. His hatred for the place ran deep; it was a constant occurrence on his timeline that now rested at June 17th, 1989. 1989, he thought to himself. 2 years now this place had been part of his life. Two years of visits, crying and emotional breakdown. Two years of constant fluctuations in his marital life that lead him to question his sanity. The close examination of the degree of sanity that he may possess that had brought him here thus far. Madness? He...


