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Out of context: Reply #9738
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strolling the grounds of my ruined country estate I assess last night's damages: in the fountain, twin swans, dead from apparent malnutrition; crashed nose first in the driveway, as if dropped from a helicopter, the scorched remains of my beloved 1962 Impala; on my hands, bloody lumps of gauze. Opposable thumbs: the last thing separating a man from an animal.