if i am the same as all the different people of this place, i must share at least something of a person of another. how must the stars be alive with the promise of song, if life is always checked by the hatred of the chorus- what survives must always be the kindest children of a place
eukynikos occami
- it, they, she but like a spaceship
- cash.app/$unstignified
peach eating vagus nerve cultist of the house of tool ape
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