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Today it was walking through the art deco spendor of Union Station in step to the techno-loungy Hotel Costes CD I'd copied to my PDA and having some goth chick smile at me as I passed. I felt like John Travolta in the opening scene of Saturday Night Fever when he's carrying the cans of paint - probably looked just as ridiculous too.
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I would believe only in a God that knows how to Dance.
Friedrich Nietzsche
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