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Twenty years ago, when she was young and unbelievably naive, Miriam Margot had worked her ass off to become a psychotherapist. She’d longed to help people and develop a fascinating insight into the human mind. Two decades of a ringside seat to the mental state of the human race and, honestly, she held out no hope for the fate of the planet at all. Humanity was a virus. She couldn’t stand people. They were pathetic, mewling idiots, who didn’t want to fix anything, but instead wished to whine about it endlessly.
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