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			Chattel Dance
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			Grass grows where the floor once was; the sky acts as surrogate roof that bars nothing from entrance: the searing sun and salt-tinged wind are as welcome as the young tamarind tree that has sprung up in the middle of a room where children once played before they had to mind the tutor's switch-- a switch he cut from the tamarind that dropped its seed within the walls. Some day, it will grow taller than the crumbling relic; its branches will spread, yet another roof, and shield the coral walls of this fragile egg.
			...