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the experiment each little flask holds a clue to the image of our destiny: there is the death-mask in which i lied to my lovers, and a delicately carved depiction of our insane cruelty. and in the middle, stopped up with a glittering, wet cork, separated by dense balls of cotton wool, we have three social classes which, when seen through the thick glass of the flask, look much larger than they really are.
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