The mode of destruction makes no difference. “She saw the castle and was delighted, so she told Farhat that if he built another one, a better one, that they would be married. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray.
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