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The script

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Easy climb.

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Edges of bootprints are stamped into the sheets.

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Electrocution waiting to happen.

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Empty bottles are all that remain of the drinks bar.

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Empty bottles, an ash tray -- but no liquor. A casual business meeting spot.

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Empty cans bounce off the wall, echo. They all miss the target.

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Empty OXEN Bocks bottles. Label says they expire in two years.

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Encrypted notes. Each paragraph uses its own cypher-type -- impressive.

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Entire chapters ripped out of the medical textbooks, replaced with handwritten pages.

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Eszti and her husband in family photographs.

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Etched under the top frame: '#4'.

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Even metal decays eventually.

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Even the chair gäng's been broken up.

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Ever feel like you should be living your beliefs a bit more? Join a union, organise a protest, write a pamphlet? Start a reading group to…

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Everybody knows males are the top level. You're destined for mediocrity, the eternal supporting role -- just smile and accept it. Only…

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Everything freshly fried.

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Eviction. Threat word. Danger.

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Ex-Supreme Leader Nestor's face has been plastered over the film poster.

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Excellent view over Party Alley from here. Can make sure everyone's having fun.

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Exotic Pet Shop [tk]

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Faces here not yet fully carved. Ghosts trapped in stone.

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FAILURES OF INFRASTRUCTURE EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK.

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Faint smell of coffee.

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Falling to pieces. We could kick him over and finish the job.

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Familiar empties of schnapps.

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Far above, past the concrete, the wind carries the sweet sting of salt and crushed grass.

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Fare evasion has worn these bars out.

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Fat residue on old cardboard.

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Feel the weight of those papers. It's all in there, the culmination to this madness.

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Fig rolls used to cool here.

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Files, redacted by rot.

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Film spills out of the boxes, the old and very flammable kind.

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FILTH MANIFESTED BY PRIVATISATION.

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Find rope. Can hang yourself from here if it goes wrong.

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Fine wine, temptingly open.

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Fire hydrant. To drown those candles if they get ideas.

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Flickering light. Stirs something.

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Flimsy latch on that drawer. Wouldn't be hard to pop.

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Floorboards coming for your balance. Don't let them take it.

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Flowers bloom from cracked cement, wilt in the pots.

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Flyers detailing horrible communicable diseases.

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Flyers for shows, rallies... all far in the past.

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For the first time in years, no one is watching you.

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For use in event of state emergency.

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Forgotten in the shadow of the satellite.

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Foxes run uphill, cutting desire lines through the undergrowth.

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Fragments of an enraged female voice escape from the receiver.

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Fragments of an unrealised geometry. They call to you.

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Fresh film, labelled 'evidence'.

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Fresh. The paint fumes make your head ache.

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The script - ZERO PARADES - Page 11 of 26