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the documents

told a different story however, the

maid had walked in on

the boss’s wife who was

reading to a down and

out old nun.  the nun was laying

over a floral spread of

bed sheets.  the old woman looked

like she was a napkin, crumpled

and in motion, dropping into

an out door waste bin.  she was beloved though and

by more

than the ruling class or the

servant class, she was a flower

in the bedding

of human gardens, where grapes grow beside

the gates to

jewish paradise.

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