Calatoria Vindecarii

A story of flush. And a censorable story (by admins) about stink.
Let all stink. Wait. Be aware of all this stink. Pain. Fear. Beliefs. Me - not good enough, not smart enough, all the not's. And the fear of a war which is actually the fear of death. This smell. Or, maybe.
Choice.
Not my pain, not my fear, not my limiting beliefs. Flush. And then?
Just me, you, us.