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Back in late 20th Century Fredericton small groups of malcontents who were unsure whether they preferred making noise or making music would gather in the unadorned and darkened rooms. These rooms may have been used to showcase "art" during the daylight hours, but after twilight on Fridays only the caterwaul of strings, skins, reed and mishandled appliances filled them.
As the new Century began many of the malcontents became so porous as to slip down into the very concrete they stood upon, or were swallowed alive by a bureaucracy so vast and incomprehensible it could only be kept nearer the centre of the Canadian landmass.
Now only a few are left... occasionally they gather... and count: one, one hundred... two, one hundred... three, one hundred... four...
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