Problems with proof of existence.

CREEPY. Life inside LuLu’s magical soul of terror. The theatrics of horror, she calls it. The whole thing glows in the dark. Its a glowing encumbrance.

A rag-tag mystery coiled against quasi religious wars, a perversion of slave-trading for love and sex, forged in magic. Its unspeakable stuff, these “sacred books.”

Searching as LuLu does relentlessly for an ear outside her own. Preying for brute, muscular reasoning! To claw a way back through the graced out swamps of beauty – exploding, as they do, in stark ringing waves of sacrificially flooding contempt.

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