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Under the dark cloudy sky. I remember him telling me his favorite story,. A story his mother told him during childhood. The Story of the Moth. It was a ridiculous fable methinks. But for him it was an ideal. It was an ideal of a criminal. A criminal loved by the Jesuit priests. A criminal loathed by our gods. For he murdered them one by one. With the sharp tip of his quill pen. He dreams of freeing us from this ill religion,. Now I know why .

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