WHY THIS secondrate poet DO NOT LOVE BIG BUSINESS part 14:
Three letters folks: SUV.
I`ll get back on that one, but don`t blame the Arabs for the mess.
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...It`s snowing, the boy said. He looked at the sky. A single gray flake sifting down.He caught it in his hand and watched it expire there like the last host of christendom. (From Corman McCarthy, THE ROAD)
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