I am the beef patty in your burger, the secret pocket of your pleated dress, the mint in your chapstick, the jump button in your remote control, the spring in your step, the last piece of uneaten cookie in your jar, the shuffle feature on your iPod, the wire in your wonder bra, the genius of your victorious choices, the wisdom beneath your inevitable failures, the dexterity of your metacarpals, the bittersweet aftertaste of a cup of steaming hot chocolate, the cool side of your pillow, the remnants of a fleeting dream, the noise of utter silence, the scent of the yellowed pages of your beloved book, the last drop of tequila swimming in your veins. I am Issey. I am the goddess of the pork swords.
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