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“As the boatman slowly got to his feet, Peter found himself thinking about a dream he had where the grand-but-burning Hotel Miramar slid down the hillside and slipped into the Atlantic to a million singeing snake hisses and a last dying puff of white smoke.” — Jonathan Dunne
As the boatman slowly got to his feet, Peter found himself thinking about a dream he had where the grand-but-burning Hotel Miramar slid down the hillside and slipped into the Atlantic to a million singeing snake hisses and a last dying puff of white smoke.