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We came into the same city, a place given; you my uncle Philip first, me, twenty three years later. I was the round-faced curly-locked little zombie-walker, bumping my way around and between the tree-trunk legs of the other grownups at your 'going away…
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The pencil pushes thepaper deeper intoitself because a blanklandscape provides the secretsto everything atonce. Ninety-nine percentof the people don't careabout your seeking justicefor the murdered circusanimals. You know who I am. I've never been just tomorrow's…
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