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The home you miss, is my burden; the longing of distance and miles is not there.
Concealed within living bone and spiral, no conquered land can I long winter, and longer yet retain.
Would you miss it - if it were always near? Those crude constructions composed of flora's corpses and Oran's nails; compose another, and... Still ye dismay:
"The house is similar, but the home is not the same."
A home requires a heart, but man has long since lost theirs; so crawling, I wonder:
"What difference is there?"
This piece presents a monologue, of a snail innately unable to appreciate Man's concept of "Home". The Snail professes an element of Man lost, a home's cause, thus no difference is to be had.
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