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“When Malingeau drew himself from his long sleep, the music was still droning in his head. Christelle was already gone. She had taken care to scribble a line on a scrap of paper. "I drank your body until my thirst was worn.” — Fiston Mwanza Mujila
When Malingeau drew himself from his long sleep, the music was still droning in his head. Christelle was already gone. She had taken care to scribble a line on a scrap of paper.
"I drank your body until my thirst was worn.