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When he stands in the living room fully erect, wearing nothing but blue corduroy shorts cut off so high the pockets peek out, he holds a bicycle chain lock above his head victoriously, like a sword from stone; a makeshift weapon, we can see it’s stained with another man’s blood.
Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?
I thought I was unhappy as a man. Turns out I was just unhappy…
Garielle's longest, most peculiar, most particularized book. A sure-to-be collector's item. Not be be missed!