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It needs cultivating, I think. ’ Gerald tutted. . The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. Yeah, I’m thirty-seven. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. After that consolations fled. .
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