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| many have been dissembled under eaves between basins the frost the rain the stink have finished the rest about him they said he had moulded God into 3 scrap-windows, but he couldn’t wash them in time he used to forget bats at every lover but marvellously baked bony cakes from his ankles – now and then even pig’s trotters finally it was pitch dark the soul dashed whizzing out of his chin…as from a Holy Editorial still in dispute: was it a clerk’s or a princess’s soul – you know those 7.2mm ones!
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