| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - anate juice.the sugared blood pools in the creases of hisskin, staining it India???s red.sometimes, my father scrubs his hands untilthey are nothing but flesh & fruit rinds.when he was younger???all skinned knees and pocketknives???he must have slipped on a thousand marbles.my father???s father was a welder who rolled and spunsteel into tiny spheres.when he died, my father???s hands became blue andf
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