The other night, I had a dream that I was home, beside the fireplace with the rich and famous Mr. Screwjack. He was snoring heavily as he lay on my lap while I finished up an article and lit a new cigarette. I woke up only to find myself still in this rotting stink of a city. This wasteland; this hellhole. This filthy pit of scum
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Maybe not quite, but the curses don't help.
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How are you, love?
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