I AM CALLED “BUTTERFLY”
I saty miniaturists.
Black ctack. I saer seeing tablis cruelly en mercilessly as tried to leave. Later, anot torches and fled.
t trance of tepped on ttered cups, plates, glasses and bo during turmoil but only illuminated t marks on treables and other debris.
Stacking long cusop one anots circle of ligiced bodies lying on t one face urned a to t. the second body was moaning, and upon seeing my lamp, made a childlike noise.
Someone else entered. At first I o ed: toryteller.
trace of blood on tered, and judging by tled. back difficult to figure out t one of t rangling out ongue so about doing so?
“Bring tove, t of truck broken coffee grinders, sieves, scales and pieces of broken coffee cups lying in toryteller ures eac, Black ures and aken from me to my face: Yes, of course I’d dra of a sense of fraternity. e could find not t tly shaved head.
Seeing no one else, ed into t t led aists ters and bags of coffee stre truggle here as well.
t t ter storyteller murdered, coupled errifying blackness of nig Black and I closer toget caused treets. Black o me, t to my t.
“e’re going to your to searc so I can put my mind at ease.”
“It’s already been searched.”
Rato tease Black’s belief in t me simply prove much confidence.
My e tion s and passed ty gardens t bore t of damp and lonely trees as raced a oer Osman and I examined terpieces of ters in treasury.”
Mucer, nearly screaming, I said,