Somewhere, in the hinterlands of South Georgia, a lonely man, father of five (four if you like), cries in his backyard, alone with his hedge. His phone does not dial out.
Somewhere in Kesington, on a dreary Fathers' Day, a childless husband, leans on his cart, laments his feeling abandoned, betrayed. His phone does not dial out.
See the cat? See the cradle?
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