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No me molesta la falta de biblioteca en la Isla.
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I said: "Hey queer, I have an idea: you pretend I'm a piece of spaghetti, and so, you have to throw me against the wall to see if I'm done". You said nothing, but smiled. Will he...? I asked to my shitty self. "Off with my head...out with my heart", you said. I understood nothing, but smiled. "The truth is"... I thought to my shitty self, "that without my partner in crime, the south land is far too desolate". I truly smiled, like a shitty wom... And then you said nothing. And then you didn't smile. So I know nothing, but I have a badly feeling. Could it be 'cause infertility of the mouth... occurs with enough vodka, or perhaps 'cause my thoughts were so loud, I couldn't hear my mouth. (thanks to "Modest Mouse")
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