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Your soul. or a handful of dust.

Chaos... Dusty yellow street lights, honking truck drivers... cigarette smoke puffed carelessly in your face.. and the quest.. the unending quest for a single free breath... giving you the slip at every bend in the clogged road... the careful painstaking preserving of that one impossibility, the concentration of all of existence on a handful of dust....
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Written by
urvashi
Published
Jun 27, 2013
Lines·Words
9·56
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