THE HARVESTING OF THE GOURD
I woke from a long nap and I was already late for the ceremonial harvesting of the gourd. The woods with the gourd were way out on the outskirts of town, in the wilds of the industrial blocks where lawless Mitsubishi Pajeros clashed for whatever buttfucking was going on out there. It was tucked behind the aluminium recyclers and smash repair shops, a st…
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