I went all in with word and thing and kept them yanked - together - (though they would spin and swerve apart) with scraps of thread smeared glue, some string a desperate stitch a rusting pin: an any kind of anything. It was my Teufelspakt. My greedy sin. I could not know I did not know if any bit, or all of it, at all would hold. The stake itself was soul. - 101and there you are - and here you are compact and hidden glory the matter of your fact this (extra) ordinary story of our fully paid-out bet.