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Last week an overseas student invited me over to her flat for dinner. As soon as I walked through the door I noticed a very meaningful atmosphere. Instead of dining t?te-? -t?te, she hand-fed me from a bowl as I lay on the sofa, putting her warm greasy fingers deep into my mouth. It was not unpleasant, but I didn’t want to put her to all that trouble and offered to use a knife and fork instead. “Relax. Is my culture,” she insisted. She made no small talk. She was wholly absorbed with the process of transferring the food from her…

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