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You go down to the pickup station, craving warmth and beauty; You settle for less than fascination -- a few drinks later you're not so choosy. And the closing lights strip off the shadows on this strange new flesh you've found -- Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf you hurry to the blackness and the blankets to lay down an impression and your loneliness. -Joni Mitchell
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find -type f -size 0