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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The sounds of shouting from the streets haven’t stopped for nearly 24 hours. A woman has been screaming “bad baby,” over and over, which has terrified me more than anything during this time of imprisonment.
Karl said I was a fajita, in my delirium I shout that he is wrong, I am a quesadilla! Or maybe a chimichanga!
“You probably don’t recognise me because I’ve been working out, thanks for noticing.” By way of reply, she farts quietly, and the scent of digesting rat fills the flat and makes my eyes water. Within minutes she is asleep and dreaming happily, thinking of an eventful day.