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Published: February 24th 2007
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A mere stone throw away from the Turkish bath was a hair saloon. Moscow Carmine, she read in bright red letters on the door to the saloon, as she opened it. The saloon was empty but for a barber who was busy cutting with his scissors in the air. “Hi.” The fairy said with a hesitant voice. Mr Moscow - the barber - didn’t notice and continued with what he was doing. “I’m looking for the...
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