I'm feeling absolutely no ju-ju for this medieval novel whatsoever.
I mean, nada, nothing. I search deep within for the character, the man and I feel nothing. Only a void. Only an emptiness. An abyss where the fire of creation is extinguished.
We must find our center, search out our katra and remember that a donut without a hole is a danish.
Pershing's War:1919?
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