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Not me, at least. But given the painful demise almost every plant under my supervision has suffered, I don't know if I want to do that to the poor lettuce. ;)
 
If I was to tend a vulture, it would probably starve on a battlefield.
 
I think it could be used for a poetic statement that I would even make something die that feeds on death. Which you could interpret to mean that I am the embodiment of a strange aeon, with which even death may die.
 
When it comes down to it, the reason for death is always the same: Your heart stops beating.
 
The good thing is that I've stopped worrying about which book to read on the tube now. I'm going for my Lovecraft anthology. Later!
 
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