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78 Whatever Up and down the branch she’s twelve, she’s waking up to herself, opening her pairs of stubby, yellow wings. * It starts off with innocent, endless iterations, twitters — whatever. But the devil says boring. The devil says faster, change it up. What’s the matter? As if this were a matter of life and death and now it is. 79 Now they’re chasing us down a twisting trunk — whatever. Now we’re chasing them. ...

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