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He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. He leaned forward to embrace her. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 04:18:19