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Dorian Juma

Fastener Tragedian 1 comment

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Six years of longing. Fourteen hours of vigil. Forty-one appeals per minute to a marketplace that has never once said, 'Go on, you deserve it.' Somewhere beyond that second-bedroom door, an original pressing waits in its splendid sleeve while county dispatch solemnly records the fall of a lamp. And still no deadwax photo. The seller's thumb, however, is graded Near Mint.