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I better pick this up soon. I love love love In A Priest Driven Ambulance and Transmissions From The Satellite Heart, but have just never really been able to click with their latter day Soft Bulletin material. If this is the reinvention I've been hoping for though then...
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The toothaches got worse, she dreamed of disembodied voices from whose malignance there was no appeal, the soft dusk of mirrors out of which something was about to walk, and empty rooms that waited for her. Your gynaecologist has no test for what she was pregnant with.
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