Or not, who gives a fuck, you did or you didn't, you got the measure, or you broke your face on the ice as you arrived from geostationary orbit.
There are moons above, striped in red and orange, that whirl around the centre, which is made of close fisted diamonds and bucky-balls, where the gods are.
And I look up and wish I was better than I am, or, at least, to have a gun. Thank you lord.
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