As I stand on the end of the dock in Seghe, the most southern point on New Georgia Island with all my worldly posessions straped to my back, I can feel hat all too familiar feeling ball up inside of my stomach. I recognize it instantly as a twinge of insecurity as I watch the Solomon Express slowly turn, and with a belch of unhealthy black soot, groan away from me. A desparate re-apprasal of our current situationmakes me think that maybe, just maybe, the information that my attorney and I gathered from that guidebook that shall remain nameless, about Seghe being the "communications hub of the Morovo Lagoon", may be a bit overstated. It was only later that we found out that buy "communications hub" the author of "that guide book" must have ment word
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