he dies with his hands on the throat of some whore, no chance to register ‘”What…?’ before

a baby girl cries, lifted from her mother’s thighs.  Karma on her trail.

Another time for girls, back then, she’s boiled alive, again and again, insults, drudgery, beatings, forcings, labours, losses.  She ensures her daughter understands a woman’s worth

less

and the daughter teaches this to her son, who shares it with every one of them he meets, until one night

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