written Sunday, June 22: At long last, Viktorija and myself slept in a real room with a real bed last night. Since our arrival, we had been sleeping on a mattress in the living room of the Thanda volunteer house where all of the foreign volunteers live. We used two bookshelves, a line of string, and a pink sheet to create walls. Every morning we were awoke by Mike, one of our eagerest volunteers, who would wake up a quarter to seven every morning (though he swears he uses no alarm clock, we would hear him at exactly this time without fail). The first noise we hear would be his door opening, then silent shuffling down the hall, jingling of the keys, fumbling with the keys in the front door lock, then the squeal of the
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