Where the streams trickle into dust, and the vines stretch no more, there breathes the lurking shadow in the dark. I know not when I came to bear the thought without disappearing into madness, but time, though sometimes a thief, has fiendishly granted a boon of remembrance. I will bear the pull of the void as long as I can in order to convey the inhospitable reality that has violated me. That you have no family, or close relationships that would fall into misfortune, grants you an immunity of sorts. But let's not delay too long. I don't know how wide this window will open and I venture that it will shut fast, lest the bats and locusts may fly through and destroy us...
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May 2016
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