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The hanging garden.
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The hanging garden.
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A large black coffee.
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You boys seemed a bit confused at first.
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The hanging garden.
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The hanging garden *
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The ticking bomb.
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Wrapped in plastic.
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Talking to you is like pulling teeth.
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A bullet smashes the neck of a whiskey bottle.
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Solitude.
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103.
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Posing for a photo.
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A frozen moment.
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A picnic with strangers.
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Showdown at the tea party.
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The improbability of the name.
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Mary had a little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow.
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The hunger for love of the resource.
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The end.
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Please look carefully through the peephole in the door.
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A framed photo.
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A figure by the pool, talking on the phone.
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There is blood on it.
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The Labyrinth of Minotaur Part Two - Cloud Life in the Cathedral of Now
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In real life I exist only as an idea of myself.
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And in the end the illusion of glittering lametta.
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The melancholy of perspective.
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The color of systemic revolt.
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Thanks for clapping. One at a time please.