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Grandmothers navigating these unfaithful alleyways, stooped at right angles, clutching strollers stripped of their infants—the quilted upholstery to receive them too. Gum, piss, vomit and where the doves have meddled leak, spill, and spew more rancid mundanaeities refused to be transferred elsewhere in plastic. Then burned? In the bellies of foragers the city lurks still teeming and tired aren’t we of trying to be full. For once.
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