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I have, as I come closer to death, understood the ballot as a form of therapeutic bloodletting. There is nothing pious or devout in this understanding. I dont expect to get into heaven. And, it is not always my blood that is spilled – in some cases my ballots veil a volley of sharp edges to the contemporary body politic, and so I count myself lucky to be invited back. But I gave up something a little more than ordinary last semester during the ballot for the Bachelor studio Babylon.

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