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Tight black jeans, sensible black socks, a red silk turtleneck top, my black j-rock coat.
And a silver bat at my throat, sitting on the rusty red silk.
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The noblest sentiment I have encountered and the most passionate political statement to stir my heart both belong to a fictional character. Why do we have no politicians as pure in their intent and determinedly joyous in their outlook as Arkady Bogdanov of Red Mars?
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