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Hallgrímur Helgason
, “The Hitman’s Guide to House Cleaning”
A headless chicken
I walk down the street. I haven’t got the faintest idea where I’m going or what I’m doing. I just have to go somewhere. When your head turns dead, your feet take over. I’m a walking headless chicken spurting blood from my sore, sore throat.
birds
,
mind
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