![]() It was no way to live, but Father saved us from all that when he bought Nun's Cross farm. You've seen it too, no doubt, everywhere you go, it's the same. Can you even imagine? Of course, you can. The neighbours would scream and drink and fuck till all hours of the morning, so we would rarely sleep. There was mould on the walls and silverfish in the drawers that would scatter like sparks when you saw them. ![]() Father once told me once that previous to the farm, we had lived in a rundown, disgusting apartment in the city. Had things worked out differently, I suppose that might be true. It's as if I just woke up there one day and had always been there and would always be there. My family and I moved there when I was nine, but I have no recollection of doing so. It's strange, I don't recall a time before the farm. The following entries were deemed pertinent to these proceedings. Collected over the course of 10 years at Dartmoor Prison and Correction facility.
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