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We've looked everywhere since, but we've never been able to find the Trilogy version of this chocolate anywhere but in the Baltic States. Today, we settled for the vastly inferior Stracciatella version for a quick snack outside the mosque. While we ate, Mary rolled up her pant leg and started scratching herself, while grunting with glee like my horny desert camel. There was something very inappropriate and sacrilegious about the whole thing.