My father once beat a buffalo to death with bare hands and then ate the still beating heart... He cried later that night...
no he didn't
no he didn't
"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often." — Charles Bukowski (Tales of Ordinary Madness)
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