" "Your husband?" "No. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. It wasn’t pretty. It was no marriage at all. ” She said. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. I'm crazy over music, too.
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