Category: love



“You don’t belong here” he stuttered angrily, wisps of sparse white hair waning as he shook his bony index finger in my face. I could smell the lingering odour of his hotdog lunch on them and wrinkling my nose, I moved his offending finger away from, making sure he noticed me wiping my hand on my trousers.
I chortled in my head at the hue of anger on his pudgy face, his walrus nose visibly flaring as his thin lips quivered
I stepped back.
“Well Mr Smibly” I said calmly, “I belong here just as much as you do. And there is nothing you can do about it”
I smiled sweetly at him and walked away, sitting at a corner where I knew he would be able to see me. I wanted my black ass clearly in his sight.
The racist cunt.

———
He took a deep drag and blew puffs of cigarette smoke into her face. He knew she hated it whenever he did that, which was the main reason why he did it anyway.
She’d complain but would never leave.
That was the nature of their friendship.
“What is love?” he said, repeating her question.
“Love is that special moment spent in between the legs of a street tart at night in Camden. That is love.”
She huffed in irritation.
She always huffed but never went away.
“Seriously! Just talk!” she said in her whiny voice.
He quite liked her voice; even more so when she was moaning in pleasure. It always made him giggle but she never noticed, too caught up in her ecstasy.
Love. What was love?
“Look, let’s forget love ok?”
He blew another into her face and laughed wildly at his antics and her deepening frown.
“Oh come onnn” he cajoled and she smiled a little, her hand subconsciously rubbing her unobvious baby bump.
How was she supposed to get him to love anything but himself?

———-

She smiled at him.
“So… I am going to ask you out” he said rather ceremoniously.
“For breakfast?” A small smile played on her lips.
“Yes, breakfast. Then I’ll ask you out.”
“For lunch?”
“Yes, lunch. Then I’ll ask you out.”
“For dinner?”
She was clearly enjoying herself.
“Yes. dinner. Then I’ll ask you out.”
“For…”
“Stuck?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
She laughed. “Indeed. I am!”
He grinned and held her hands
“I’ll ask you out to he my girlfriend”
She raised an eyebrow imperiously. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea”
She burst into a fit of laughter, shaking her head.
“My, aren’t you a charmer…”
“So…?”
She nodded. “Sure”
A sly look crept into his eyes. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why?”
Imitating him, she shrugged.
“I have no idea”

————–

So, decided to put this up instead of wait till Monday
Wrote these one day on the train and left somewhere in an obscure folder.
Writing it made me smile. Lol.
Oh and a private wink to whom it may concern. 😉

Have a lovely weekend… nah just kidding. 😛
Jana!

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Mameh


Hey!
Today’s post is courtesy of yours truly and a deviation from the norm.
Enjoy!

MAMEH

I suddenly remember the little oval scar at my mum’s shoulder. I remember it dark, larvae-like, and memories of how fascinated I had been as a child, of that little oddity makes me smile. When Mameh tied her wrapper to her chest, I’d climb in her laps and sit down, my little hands straying to the scar. I would prod it, pinch it, even attempt to open it which made my mum laugh even though it hurt her. She’d prise my fingers away and tell me to stop touching.

I never could bring myself to ask her the question, intent on discovering for myself the secret of the atypical scar.
One day, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and with the seriousness only a six year old child could muster, I blurted out the question. “Mameh what happened here?”
I remember the small smile that tugged at the corner of her dark, full lips as she  removed my prying fingers for the umpteenth time.
“A nail entered into my back” she said simply and I remember how wide my eyes had gone. I didn’t ask the obvious questions of “How or When?” even though I was burning to.
I was that kind of child.
All I did was absorb this new piece of information in silence as my mind tried to picture the nail Papa had once shown me during one of his DIY repairs, doing the damage.

After minutes of ruminating, my little mind got tired.
“Did it hurt?” I asked finally.
“Of course!” she exclaimed, laughing at the memory as her fingers played with my tough black hair that seemed to tangle at the slightest opportunity.
“Very bad?” I asked again.
“Very bad. It bled a lot.”
Again, I absorbed this new piece of information. The idea of blood gushing out like a fountain I had seen at the amusement park Mameh took me to once made me smile. Again, I had been that kind of child; fascinated with the bizarre.
I inferred at that moment that my mum had cried when she had that injury. I suddenly giggled and my mum looked at me in askance.
I was wondering what her face must have been like when she cried. Did she have catarrh dripping down her nose like I did when I cried as I begged Papa to take me with him on his journey to Yola or when Mameh put vegetables in front of me and forced me to eat the vile greenies?
“You cried mummy!”

Note, this hadn’t been a question. Was it the excitement in my voice or the look of absolute triumph in my fce? She laughed long and hard! I remember her laugh now; unrestrained and full, as if coming from the very pits of her rotund stomach. Her breasts would jiggle against me with the force of exhalation like it did that day.
“No o! I did not cry! Big girls don’t cry!”
Now, I laughed too. She was obviously lying. I didn’t know how I knew this. I just did. It was the glint in her eyes; the glint she had whenever she wanted me to help her ask Papa for money. I was an astute child; Mameh always said I had an uncanny way of ‘knowing’ things. She’d later chide my ‘knowing’ as I got older. “Ask questions! Don’t assume!” Not that I ever see the need to; my assumptions are always right.

My fascination with her scar lessened as I got older. In fact, up until now, I hadn’t thought about that oval scar in years.

I stare at her impassive face now and suddenly, the urge to feel that little mark fills my head. I lick my lips, fighting for control of my fingers. I fight the urge to stretch my hand and push the starched white shirt they’ve put on her and feel her scar like a doctor feels for a tumour. It had been our bonding point.
I giggle as hysteria tries to take chunks out of my mind and I feel my elder brother’s worried stare beside me.
I smile at him. ‘I am fine’ my smile says even though my eyes tell a different story.
I stroke her cool face, marvelling at the mortician’s skills in making her look presentable. She looks almost…alive.
For a second, I thought I saw her lips twitch, the beginning of a smile. I blink quickly and it’s gone.
It is when I feel my brother’s arms around that I realise I had been in tears.
“Big girl don’t cry” I whisper to the woman I loved since the day I ‘knew’ her. “But I am not a big girl… I still want my mummy…”

I hold her hands for a second and feeling the insistent tug from my brother, I decide to move away from the casket, making space for other viewers.
A small song she used to sing comes unbidden to my head and I murmur softly.

“Good night. Good night.
Close your eyes, Keep them safe.
For soon will be morning…”

My voice threatens to break as emotions well up in me, clogging my throat.  I cannot complete the song.
“And you would need them healthy then…” my brother murmurs, finishing the song.
I smile up at him.
“ I’m fine” I tell him again, trembling smile in place.
He pulls me into his arms and hugs  me tight as sudden powerful sobs rack my body.
He murmurs the song over and over again to me, rocking me like a child; just like the way Mameh did when she sang the song to us as children.

Saving Ruth


Hello!
A damsel brought an interesting story as an offering and today, we feast.
Warm welcome to Oluchi as she takes the helm today!
Enjoy.

SAVING RUTH

I knew that something bad had happened when Melissa barged into our chemistry class agitated, trying to control her stammering as incomprehensible words came pouring out of her mouth. She was trembling and tried to hold herself up, gripping with her left hand a rusty bar handle connected to the wall by the door. Mrs Aide looked up at me, and then at Melissa when her words started to make sense.

“It’s Ru.. Ruth. Sh.. She’s g-g-going to jump! She’s at the roof top and sh-sh-she’s going t-t-to jump!”

It felt like I would have a bowel movement the moment I stood up from the wooden chair I had been plastered to for the past hour, but I fought the urge to run into the restroom for fear of letting another delicate moment slip by. I could feel everybody’s reaction in the room, how their roaming eyes finally came to find solace on me. It’s obvious what I must do, I thought as I made my way quickly through the jam-packed chairs, avoiding the barrage of scouring curious eyes that followed my movement. I fought surprisingly for air which seemed to be lacking in the classroom all of a sudden. It was yet another day, another hour to allow my thoughts be completely overshadowed by Ruth’s being.

I did not bother to catch a glimpse of anyone staring or solicit their help because I knew they would only avoid my gaze like shrinking cowards. Our classmates had become accustomed a caitiff lifestyle when it came to dealing with Ruth, who could now be identified as the girl with “many problems”. They were so completely void of the mental bravery it took to read her foreign character so because it was easier, they avoided her like a deadly taboo instead. Had Ruth not been the type to sit at the back of the class and pay attention to no one but the lines in the books she studied so profoundly, maybe she would have more friends. Had she not been so obsessed with her solitude and launched a safe spot at the very end of the cafeteria to eat quietly like a little mouse, had she been like every other normal girl in class – then maybe they would have embraced her. She was still the smartest girl I had ever met and had a mind so easy to get lost in because it went on forever. After years of having to deal with listening to contents of her suicidal thoughts, I could not believe It was finally coming to reality. (Actually I could, I would be crazy to act surprised). It almost felt like I had waited and primed myself for this day.

The whole class was right behind me as I ran down the hall way and it was certainly not because they cared. Our blue checkered dresses flapped quietly behind us as we made our way down the corridor, shoes click-clacking noisily against the hard concrete floors. I went up the stairs as fast as I could, hoping over extra steps to increase my pace and simultaneously trying to null out the queasy whispering voices behind me. I would have turned around to ask that everyone shut their mouth up had it not been for the way my heart banged with worry and my head spun with confusion. Why would Ruth do this to me today?

I got to the top of the roof and pushed the door open. A generous puff of dust rose and clouded my vision along with that of the twenty other girls behind me. I heard a couple of people cough lightly as I walked right through the wall of dust that stood as a barrier between me and the girl whose body outline I could now make out. Her hair that was neatly cornrowed to the back in five sections glistened against the sunlight and her glasses sat uncomfortable on her nose like an unbalanced see-saw  Her slender neck grew an inch longer when she exhaled nervously and turned around carefully on the constricting cement ridge that created a barrier between the roof and the open 10 feet below us. I studied her skinny body, the way her arms folded across her chest as if she were cold or in want of a hug. Her eyes caught my attention and I remembered the disconcerting nickname she had gotten from our classmates, “the frog princess”. They were an oval bulging of irrevocable beauty that could see past the physical, and so they sat gracefully beneath her dark scruffy eyebrows. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t come to recognize how unnaturally beautiful her perceived ugly was.

We were both 15 and in high school. She was everything that I wasn’t and that was okay. I had been willing to accept her that way so I wondered for a minute why she would resort to this. Was I not good enough?

I walked up to her and in a bold step of faith raised my arm up, my hand extended as I beckoned for hers with pleading eyes. There was no rue in hers like there usually would be when she talked about self-destruction and made me upset. This time, it was dark and completely flushed. And I could not read it.

“Come down. Please. We can work this out. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. I am here for you.”

“No.” she shook her head slowly and then unfolded her arm, letting them fall to her side before lifting her right arm to show me her wrist. On it were little horizontal scrapes heavy with concealed stories from her past, days when she found comfort in hurting and healing under the cuts of her razor blade. There was a new bruise and I could tell it was barely a day old. The effect of seeing it again made my body feel like it was being pulled down to the earth by gravity.

“Please..” my voice trailed off all of a sudden and I was short of words. It was unusual and very unlikely that something like this would happen to me but I had truly not had anything else to say. Somehow I had managed to use up all the little tricks (I shouldn’t call them tricks) in my books and I was left with nothing. My mind had become a hollow land for little unwanted demons to dance in and I felt like they were mocking me. I felt defeated but I knew that I had to save Ruth again, from herself and from the rest of the world. She would one day prove to them that she was more than just a displaced eldritch; she was smart and funny and could make beautiful rainbows out of skittles.

And so I did what most people would not have expected me to do. I heard Mrs Aide’s midget outcry when I made to climb onto the ridge and stand with Ruth. It was so narrow that I wondered how I would manage to get on there and still maintain a calm conduct. Ruth looked panic-stricken as she watched me mount steadily, my whole body a spiral of trembles. She told me to stop, urged me to go back down. I told her no. I was assertive or at least I tried to sound like it.

“What’s it going to be Ruth? If you’re sure this is what you want, I am one hundred percent on your side. But you gotta be sure. And I’ll do this with you. Like I always promised. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” her eyes welled up. “Don’t do this.”

“I would do this, and a whole lot more. I would do anything for you.”

I held on to her for support and hoped the steady physical bond we had now created would grant me some sort of mental stability as well. I was now swimming in a well of trepidation and imagined my classmates to be little starved alligators waiting to devour me. Devour us. Give up now Ruth, i thought to myself. You have to save us now.

I was waiting for her to give in. The whole class was in a bubble of chaos now. I saw a girl, Sarah, fall lazily unto the ground and remain there motionless. It took me a minute to realize she had just fainted. Timid Lara went to the corner of the worn out wall that led back into the school and sat on the floor to cry. There seemed to be a lot of disarray and sensed anxiety from this group that once treated my friend like an unwanted pariah. I wanted to blame them for this and for everything. Mrs Aide was now shouting on the phone, supposedly to a man that identified himself as the head of security. I couldn’t make out her words, I couldn’t make out anyone’s thoughts. I didn’t want to care about anyone of them at that point. I just wanted my friend down and safe.

“I’m tired. I’m tired of it all. I don’t want to live in this world anymore. Please”

The way she begged me to let her do as she pleased, to let her die at the hands of these monsters made me angry. I wanted her to know I was worth staying back for, no matter how selfish that sounded, I wanted her to love me enough to want to be alive for me.

“Then we go together. You and I. We go now. We jump now and all this is over. But you can’t go without me. Do as you please but take me with you.”

Good. I saw her shaking her head and I knew that this would all be over soon. A gentle breeze blew across our faces, and then a little stronger but I clung tight to her and tried not to look down. I could now hear the sound of obnoxious distracting voices from the bottom. I could make out a woman’s deep-chested screaming like a mother hen who just lost her babies. There was a lot of racket around us now from different angles – from every corner that surrounded us. The security guards had arrived, three lousy looking scrawny men charred from the burning rays of our hot sun and sweating like labouring African slaves. They sounded so barbaric that I could not make out a word of what they were saying. My eyes were fixed on Ruth.

“Let’s come down.” she said.

I had agreed. I mean, I remember nodding my head in agreement as a pool of tears finally let loose across my cheeks. I remember squeezing her hands tightly like I would on a sweet juicy orange, trying to relish as much of it as possible. I remember looking right into her eyes, appreciating the love that she had shown me and in return loving my sister more. I remember reaching across to put my hands around her neck — but you see, I shouldn’t have done that. I got lost in the surreality of my our accomplishment that I forgot about the one little detail that should have had me at my toes. Had I not so desperately tried to tune it all out, I wouldn’t have completely disregarded how narrow that ridge had been – how unbelievably hairlike the line between life and death was.

I did lose my balance but I made sure Ruth stayed standing, living. I was fast enough to give her an unfaltering push onto safe grounds when I realized what was happening. As luck would have it, the event seemed to take place in slow motion which gave me enough time to think and realize that every thing happening and yet to happen was as a result of chance. I hadn’t been sure I would fall over the roof to the ground and have my body shattered like a fumbled bowl of overripe tomatoes but I had promised as I shoved Ruth that I would make it in time to save myself before the dilatory period was over. I knew it might or might not happen.

I let myself believe it didn’t matter as I staggered in utter apprehension to regain my balance. I let myself believe that the goal had always been to save Ruth, and it had been accomplished. The last thing I heard was her screeching bawl and my thin outcry. What must have followed when I drifted into complete oblivion were the cries of the hundreds of people that met my body as it landed on the rocky granite with a loud earth-shaking thud.

———————————————-

And there you have it!
Please the writer has requested for feedbacks on the story so do endeavour to leave comments letting her know what you liked (and didn’t like maybe?).
Hope you all have a great weekend!
Jana!

Te Amo


So it’s the 14th of February. Yada Yada.
Everyone seems to be writing bloody love letters! Lol.
Well, this isn’t a letter but decided to try out a short love story for you love junkies.

————————————————————————————————–

TE AMO

“I…I…”
“Shh…” He held her tight in his arms, burying his face in her hair and stroking her arm. “Say no more baby. I understand” he whispered into her ear softly, a small, sad smile on his lips.
She shook her head slowly, tears streaming down her face, dampening his singlet clad shoulder.
“I forgive you Ibukun” he murmured, kissing her ear to her neck and up to her forehead. “I forgive you because I love you. It hurt but baby,I cannot go on without you.” His voice cracked and her hands shaking, gripped his arm tight.
She choked on her sob, shaking, trying to get a word out of trembling lips but he held a finger against her lips, silencing her.
“Let’s forget it all. Don’t explain. You cheated but I want us to make peace ok?”
He kissed her softly, tasting salty tears on her lips. He licked them. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
He stroked her hair again and suddenly pushed her on the bed roughly.
He smiled serenely at her jerking body; smiled as she cried, foaming at the mouth, the poison she had ingested making a short work of her system.
Her kohl-lined eyes rolled back and her nails dug into the sheets as her limbs thrashed on the bed.
He studied the transformation on his wife’s face with absolute fascination, arms folded.
He sat beside her and stroke her tangled weave as she tried to moan through the pain. “We’ll get through this”
Slowly, her thrashing reduced, her limbs losing energy to continue that frantic movements.
He stroked her hair as he watched her seize movement.
He watched her die.

His smile broadened and he arranged her neatly on the bed, taking time to divest her of her clothing. Satisfied with his work, he jumped off the bed and rummaged through his drawer till he found what he was looking for. Dropping the found item on the bed, he unbuckled his trousers, pulling them down and off. He threw his singlet off his slim frame.
He climbed back in bed and with reverence, mounted his wife of three months.
Marital consummation.
The word floated in his head and he barked in laughter as he exercised his rights.
“We’ll make a baby. The baby you always wanted, we’d make one. Maybe a girl that looks like you…”
He talked to her, stroking her face, feeling her body stiffen beneath him.
He rode her relentlessly.
“We’d be happy together. All of us. They’d grow up to be doctors and lawyers”
His breath hitched as he was about to release his seed.
“You’ll love me! You’ll love me because I love you! My love is big enough!”
He squeezed her tight as his body spasmed, ejaculating into her.

A beautific smile on his face and he laid beside her, suddenly exhausted.
He exhaled deeply, hands tapping blindly till he felt the object he had dropped on the bed earlier. His fingers found the cold butt of the pistol and he smiled as he lifted it up.
He held her hand and dropped a tiny kiss on her palm.
“I love you…”
He raised the barrel to his head, feeling slight shivers run down his spine when the cold steel met his skin.
“I love you…”

He pulled the trigger.


*set to In The End by Vanessa Carlton*

The keys black and white, like him and her.

His ochre skin glistened with sweat as he thrust into her, over and over. She arched her back into him, crying furiously as he took her. She wrapped her hand around his neck and squeezed, her wiry fingers compressing his windpipe with unnatural strength. Her eyes were sad, but they shone with a preternatural light as his thrusts intensified with the tightening of her fingers. He began to gasp as her body began to spasm under him and he buried himself deep into her, his outstretched arms  rested on flat palms on either side of her face. In a mindless lust filled haze, she bucked and was rewarded with a resounding snap. His head lolled and his arms gave way, his naked body collapsing onto hers. She wrapped her hands around his torso and cried softly, the relief of taking a life washing over her, silently savouring the warmth leave his body and the gentle weight that slowly grew on her as his blood stopped to flow and his limbs turned to lead.

It took ten minutes for his body to transmute from healthy ochre to a sickly ash and she laid under him through it all, arms wrapped around his neck, legs spread beneath him. With some effort she crawled out from under him, the smell of death upon her. It is just as it should be, she thought to herself, walking through the dimly lit belfry towards the little square of light cast by the moon through the stained glass window. The kaleidoscope of colours bathed her pale skin in the glorious hues, a mockery of the blackness she was inside. Her youthful skin, milky white in spite of the years she spent in the desert sun, playing away the beautiful concertos that she had longed to play in the darkened halls with beautiful high ceilings. Her breasts blue and yellow from the light cast by the robes and cherubic face of the Christ child, they had stayed small as they were when He first fondled them in that back alley, when he made her spirit soar and her skin flush with light and her womb bloom with his seed. Her flat belly was the cream of the sheep that lay beside the manger, the fertile pudgy sheep that bowed its head in adoration of the child. Hers would never rise, never. He’d taken that from her because she took his seed away from him. The only thing that continued to thrive was her raven hair falling to her plump buttocks, hiding the scars of her trysts with Him as He prod her over and over, every season she sook him out to lay with her.  He’d obliged her each time, but he forbade her to look upon his beautiful face, bent her over and took her, sinking his claws into the small of her back and raking deep gouges that took a year to heal. He thought he was punishing her, but she knew better, he was the only one who could hurt her and pain was better than the numbness she felt.

He would ask her to play for Him wherever they met, in a crowded market or a dingy slum or an upscale hotel. It never mattered to him how many would die after. It never did.

“I have missed my violin, Tana.” He would say. “Play me a little piece? I want to hear if he has been tuned and oiled like you promised.”

She would play, from mournful to joyous, from jubilant to brooding, astute to languid, and they paused  where the music carried. Young, old, beautiful, juvenile; it didn’t matter to Tana Brooks’ violin. They would stop in their tracks and gather around her, transfixed by the sounds her bow wrought. He would disappear into the mist as he always did, smiling at his creation. She would play as long as they wished her to, minutes, hours, even days. She would tap out melodies that reminded suited business men of their childhood dancing to folk songs and they would dance in helpless abandon while she cried for now she was so in tune with the violin she could see the deaths that would come for them. Eventually they would all get sated with her and as a swarm they would disappear to their deaths and leave her with the burden of being judge and executioner. And she would disappear until, her scars healed and compulsion drew her to seek Belial again.

“Doh! Doh! Doh!” came the melodious whisper from the aged piano in the corner. Tana shook herself from her reverie and noticed the light was much stronger now; she had stood there for hours. She turned to the sound and a smile parted her lips. Ashy and stiff, he perched naked on the tiny stool that faithfully stood beside the crumbling piano hidden in the darkened corner of the room, his frozen fingers picking notes of a child’s lullaby. His neck jutted out an angle and his glassy eyes stared into the dark but he didn’t need to see the keys to play. She stood in the light and watched in awe as his skin regained its lustre and his joints became fluid once again, his neck slowly inching its way back up, righting his head full of curly hair. She saw it every other night, but each time he rose from where they had coupled and healed, it awed her over again. He turned his now straight head at her and smiled ruefully, seguing from the jaunty march he had been playing into a languid waltz. Play with me, his eyes pleaded.

Tana picked her violin from where she’d laid it by the window sill and tightened the frogs. She tested a few notes ensuring her notes rang true to his, and plunged herself into the music; following his lead, complementing his dips and shoring the silences between his transitions. They played so beautifully, two angels of death, harbingers of doom, cursed by their chance meetings with Lilith and Belial to wreak death in all they did. She played the half tones that her heart had longed to sing and the dirges she couldn’t play at the funerals of all the people she’d loved from afar and watched slip into darkness and he played the grand hymns he had dreamed of subsuming himself in at the cathedral where he had grown up, on the colossus of an organ behind which he had prayed for eighteen years tightening screws and waiting for his turn to glory in its melodies. Lilith found him and cursed his eyes to stay forever open and his hands to freeze in death each time he ever played for another’s entertainment, she’d taken all he cared for away from him on a petulant whim.  She was his salvation and he her companion, the perfect waltz, the girl on the violin and the boy on the piano.

——————————————————————–

This piece was written in 45 minutes as an imagined sequel to the  epic Girl On The Violin (read it here) set to the haunting song In the End by Vanessa Carlton. Our boy on the piano is none other than Johnny Depp. I hope I did justice to Tana Brooks. Shalom.

broken


Today’s post is a poem. Enjoy.

Wooden beads black and round
From the first time they held hands
Lips moved and thoughts told without sound
As fingers drew hearts in the sand

The yellow walls reflected her joy
As they sat by the fireplace
Disaffected by the world’s never ending ploys
A single shadow shared in quiet solace

The fights, they started small
Words thrown around and resolved in haste
And then they grew tall
And laid her love to waste

Between her legs, where others cavorted
Remained closed to him
So he took his keys and his wallet
And buried himself in gin

He screamed and shouted, shrieked and growled
She didn’t flinch, she’d never repent
Her ears deaf to his tortured howls
He crawled into the corner, when he was spent

His breaths are short and harried
Because alas, the pain hasn’t tarried
He has warred and he has prayed
But all for naught, she will not stay

Hearts break like cheap china
Hearts break like cheap china
Day breaks awash with desire
But hearts break like cheap china.

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