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When into the womb of time everything is again withdrawn chaos will be restored and chaos is the score upon which reality is written. (Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer.) Deepak outside the pastry shop The police van was parked across the road from where the dead body lay as if poised for a quick getaway. There was a lull in activities when I walked into the crime scene; it transpired later that it was the break when everybody awaited the official police photographer. That nameless guy whose thankless work accompanies

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