Speak to Tash
 
 

  A bead of sweat trickles down your brow. Your throat is dryer than the Sahara desert. Your breath comes in short, fast gasps if at all. Your brain feels foggy, like space and time are moving around you in slow motion. Your palms are clammy.   The faces gazing at you may as well be the piercing stare of a lion about to devour you.   This is the extreme end of presenting.   The squeaky bum moment when things unravel around you.   I’m going to discuss today what I’ve...

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