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Namasté Prime

by on Sep 6, 2011 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

By Grá Linnaea New Ishvara, as a designated party city, maintained its celebrated image by making the streets dance 24/7. Tether slid easily through constricted masses of dancers glutting Nysta Street, his hands floating belt-high to brush knuckles lightly on the people he passed. He...

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