Whatever else you may think about Keith, if you don't accept that the sheer flow on this is astounding then... you don't know what the hell you're talking about.
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The toothaches got worse, she dreamed of disembodied voices from whose malignance there was no appeal, the soft dusk of mirrors out of which something was about to walk, and empty rooms that waited for her. Your gynaecologist has no test for what she was pregnant with.
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