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Monday 7 July 2014

Call me a trinket


She was alive, yes. But only in pieces, shattered and displaced. She wasn't anymore just a person.She wasn't one. Like many torn up littler pieces of cotton. They are never one. And, like a dirty scrap of clay, that has been played with a lot. 

All that was left was nothing - but a slave fettered in dismay.

- Fa


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