Here is my eleventh sheet:

The short poem on the right hand side reads:

I met a man who lived in a cabin
in the woods, far from any road.
He built the cabin from scratch. He
talked to me about how great the air
was, how pure the water tasted, how
healthy he became, how he felt he
was finally in
control of his own body, and
could move from place to place
without fear or apprehension.

I hope there are natural rights
which I had somehow forgotten,

living my life
away from those trees
(and all those bugs!)

outside the constitution,
neither numbered nor written.

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