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"At the lake now. Behind me the exhilarating intersection of potential and luxury. The boring conversations gave first clues. The benches here are situated in swamps. I am convinced once people made their ways out to them and were stranded. They died there, thinking of their families who forgot to check up on them. They melted and made the swamp larger. On one a madman still sits. There are still old-fashioned madmen here in the North. In the south no one is mad any more. Really. No one."
-while walking Lake of the Isles.
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