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32 The Furies Oh kindly ones, with eyes soft as panda fur, and hair that supplies its own rough breeze, would you like a nibble of this tart, baked with scraps of stray dog heart? There’s a fracture in my chimney, a crack rippling through my wedding ring. Twice a week, my wife brings back the soil from another man’s flowerbed. I wonder if you might speak with him in your language of fire, one he seems to both play with and comprehend. ...

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