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She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. But it was hopelessly hard to put. We come out into the world, some of us—” She paused. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it.
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