Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. . You were dying and your baby along with you. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. From the beginning. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his.
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