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  • I wear the skin of a fox. I retreat from the woods and fields, escaping that unending feeling of being hunted through the dusk, and find shelter in the city. I nest in the suburbs where the change between night and day is marked by the closing of shops and the crayke of commuters. Here I pick up over the scraps left in gardens and hanging on door handles, taking them and weaving them into new stories to wrap myself in while I sleep.
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