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       Laco.   
       And when I got to the cabin: on the end of the shiny lane:   
it hit me:  everytime: straight into my face    (then once on the
Earth: I smelled the same:  in the pavilion of ibexes - sweet and
spongy not-fully-fragrant compaction.)    On the door in - it was
scraped into a varnish.

       So fragrant planner and hot constructor:       I am happy.
Coffee from the slot machine. I gulp: I run

       But why? Where? Everything are simple questions     - this
here - as he hover somewhere in mean vacuum: absolve of the suit: 
sunny storm sway him:   or:   maybe lives in a small moon colony:
provokes jaded gravity: nursed up from the mother ship newly. 
       Father.



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