This nasty, rain-dizzling Sunday morning endless indifference. The grey hole that's below me but beckoning. If I get over that, then I will be stronger (because it didn't destroy me). I need some Manga transformation, or at least to level up.
Looking forward to the wooden galleries of a Toswanian court with glowering turbanned fucknuts passing unpleasant judgement, on top of piled up religious books. Patterned textiles variously uncover the one true word and are accompanied by harmonium and tuneful wailing. They sing whilst they decide.
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