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Defeating The Demon of Poverty

The voice’s dulcet tone embraced the air like a perfume of night flowers. This time I couldn’t argue with it. It was all over the room and its source complimenting the hotel’s turn-of-the-century origins in the subdued colors, discreet patterns and rich fabrics, complete with marble bathrooms and classic Italian furnishings. I knew it was God speaking but what he was saying was so out of my level that it was very difficult to comprehend.

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