The feet of a young ballet dancer who ended her life when she lost her ambition. These legs walked the streets. You remember the hooker who was killed by her pimp last week? Think of all the bodies these legs have wrapped around. What was the value of her life, to end up being picked apart by the likes of Dr. Graves and his bumbling students? And here... The womb of the virgin, struck down before tasting the pleasures of life. Remember? "Your skin... So soft, so warm," but so cold in death. The arms of a waitress. The lawyer's hand. "Case dismissed." Oh, and look at this delicate piece. What do you think? Sculptress? A harpist? Would you believe... a murderess? But they're all equal now. Nothing but cast-off remnants of a meaningless existence. Even her. How beautiful is this face. Oh yes, she was special. Just. Dead. Tissue. But in our hands it's the clay of life! Within this chest, Meg's heart will beat again.
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