Sweating to an unusual degree. The symptom of an incurable disease. Face covered, slippery and thick like ghee. Life’s a looper. Looping us in a maladroit manner. Panic. Perfidious and manic. Just like Rococo, I think I’ve had it. I’m taciturn, clinging to the stanchion. A hawser round my neck and it starts to burn.…
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