| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - The next hours are a blur: a mad scrambling through bins in the pouring rain, under cars, picturing the ink running off the pages into the teaming gutters, listen to a guy at the bus station saying it happens 5 times a night and I???ll never get it back, yelling abuse at some young drunks on the stairs, looking for a fight, everyone a suspect, turning in circles, doubling back.
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