Monday 08.36 The weight of history hangs heavy here. Time stuttering to a standstill as stagnant as the waters of the tributary canals. Amongst the ennui I have fallen prey to a deadly sin. Lust clutching me to its heaving bosom, prickling at my flesh, skewering my sopping cunt with its talons as I squirm endlessly about their dragging tips. I want to sigh, to gasp, to moan out the
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