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Beneath the cobbles of London, where tradition and history stand, life flows from the bloody chalice. A knife slices through a sausage full of meat. The smell of rotting guts wafting from soft skin. People unknowingly derive energy from this. That is why my art is passed on.
I am a ghost wandering the streets of decadence. I have eyes that see through the darkness, and in the grey mist, I kidnap life. The night is not over yet. Let the carnage be here.
From hell, with love.
Jack the Ripper - 1888
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