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Phase II

Ibhaan’s Head:

Despise; is a very strong emotion. And I don’t like to use it often. It just feels negative and I don’t appreciate much negativity. My feelings of despise have exclusive exposure.

My disposal is limited to three things in the world.

The list is topped by serpents, to say the least. I absolutely despise carbs and lastly and the most—I hate Duong and a specifically admired restaurant that goes by the name Tiffany.

Sorry, but I don’t. Kill me, I don’t. Sue me, I don’t. Fuck me in the ass, I still do not.

I’d rather suck my own dick but eat in that dimly lit little crackpot in the middle of Duong or anything prepared by them. It’s a mysteriously ugly catastrophe hidden under the mist. It is unnoticeable and yet to be shattered by a thunderstrike.

The place, its owner, their services: everything is disgusting—plain and incessant, tastes like a pup’s poop, and smells like rotten meat. Nothing can change that! Nobody. Yeah, not a single soul on the planet can co
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