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Chapter 16 ~ Not every tale

Meanwhile, Vladimir had led into the tent to seemingly have his fortune told.

It was appalling on the outside, a dystopian sight that had broken bottle, piss wreaking and thrown out liquor kegs in its vicinitiny with a rat that might have been alive giving a thrown out ornament head.

The smell was as breath taking in the sense that it would literally leave one short of breath and the air that irritated the nervous system only contributed to the outwardly guise of shrouded instruction. “Do not enter!”

It felt errie and the disregard shown to it by fellow marketers was evident in the worn out aesthetic, but this didn't halt his procession or his sighting of the shaman that dwelled within.

"Welcome, my guest. I hope the ladies outside didn't rob you of your treasures." The shaman said.

Vladimir strolled into the tent in awe at the variety of voo-doo insighting relics that constituted the decor of the entire interior.

"Do you always have these, 'trinkets' on display?" He asked.

"Well,
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