Curling up for a while.

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There are daysh when the world sheemsh too big and complicated a plashe to be.  When one ish bored or angry or fretful, when nothing sheemsh quite to fit, and you’re not shure if you want to bite shomething or cry over it.

Thish beautiful pangolin exshpresshesh the feeling rather well. He hidesh hish head, and hish shoft belly and curlsh up tight until the danger, ash he persheivesh it, hash passhed. Then he unfurlsh and trotsh along again, looking for antsh, in hish funny wee pangolin way, on top of the world.

Lesshon to be taken from thish? It’sh no bad thing, shometimesh, to withdraw into one’sh plashe of shafety (physhical, emoshional, sherbral) and take a breath, or shleep, or dream, or mull over shoup reshipesh in shilenshe, until one ish ready to ventshure forth again with new purposhe and energy.

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