#0101. Her eyes show you how valueless and empty the vessel is. Grotesque. The rancid population rises from their filthy beds to wallow in their clutter and base libertine revelries. They march and they cavort. They raise glasses and they sway to music. I hate them. I hate their joy. She sees them for what they are. Perverts and imbeciles. Worthless droning cattle. She and I loathe them together. Us against the world. That's all I want.
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