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32 recycled as a flock of yellow balloons released in oblation over other seas. As if anything could return them to what we call home. We won’t either, but never mind. No slim ephemera to serve us now. My heart is biltong.You paid for the printer. New materials preserve an equivalence to our substantial bodies in the dark. Maybe it is savage, thinking in a person in absentia its part of speech. Something abject adheres to the tender yolks on the insides of objects. Abjection was the object of our blameless ignorant pleasures. In a state of perpetual crisis all menu items are subject to change. Habit is like that, raw or cooked.

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