no other excuse is possible, but, the one before uttered, these same lines, these unwavering gazes, than those- lines, those pleasantries.
come to think of it, i crumbled more than pie during those dizzying moments, forced myself to walk to my solitude
fazed, i almost did not make it back, and surprisingly had moments of clarity with the shadow, my servant-in-waiting. i survived, scratched sore silly, but more limber
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