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Why is my back loaded with fine flour, while in my mouth there is no bread at all, but only straw? I drink well-water, though I carry wine. And the stick goes on fracturing my skull!
I live in rubble…
Here I begin; listen to me, great and small.
Once there was a mighty king—as in the stories begun by girls. His peer in virtue was not to be found. He had a land that was stately indeed. He…