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I haven't finished a book in years, knowing there are no endings. Soft edges vaguely approached present as foreign landscapes, distant and slanted. In recognition of futility, vertical lines fall flat, emptied and exhausted, leaving false trails in their wake. I follow, embedding myself within the infinite weariness of space... -R.C. Mandeville
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
How Many Breaths Do I Have Left?
I haven't finished a book in years, knowing there are no endings. Soft edges vaguely approached present as foreign landscapes, distant and slanted. In recognition of futility, vertical lines fall flat, emptied and exhausted, leaving false trails in their wake. I follow, embedding myself within the infinite weariness of space... -R.C. Mandeville
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
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