Each of us, a cell of awareness, imperfect, and incomplete. Genetic blends, with uncertain ends, on a fortune hunt that’s far too fleet.

Each of us, a cell of awareness, imperfect, and incomplete. Genetic blends, with uncertain ends, on a fortune hunt that’s far too fleet.

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You just pick a chord, go twang, and you've got music.
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Contempt loves the silence, it thrives in the dark. With fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart.