NOVELISTS WRITING ABOUT CANADA: the unconquered landscape, chased by the seven most famous paintbrushes of all, this vast unrolling relentless country-- MY ACTUAL CHILDHOOD: I have a note from my grandmother excusing me from swimming lessons. I can't get my hair wet.
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Just saw a bloody big hawk try to take out my ex’s chook and the news says we’re about to have a funnelweb plague
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I'd rather read about your actual childhood! Did the lyrebird win?
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NOVELISTS WRITING ABOUT SWEDEN: the dark cold night was deadly and a sinister murder had just occured in the town populated by a cult of beautiful tall blond people. MY ACTUAL CHILDHOOD: Its picture day at and my mother has us in matching bright color tracksuits.
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