After he woke me up last night same dream or was it? Wait. Open hallway. Street of harlots. Remember. Haroun al Raschid. I am almosting it. That man led me, spoke. I was not afraid. The melon he had he held against my face. Smiled; creamfruit smell. That was the rule, said. In. Come. Red carpet spread. You will see who.
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| Looking For Joyce |
