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“The neons become matter. The metallics lose their sheen. The humility runs through veins like prosperity runs through dreams. Why does the sun cast her beams so harshly that it seems as though the parties are serene?” — Isaiah Qualls
The neons become matter. The metallics lose their sheen. The humility runs through veins like prosperity runs through dreams. Why does the sun cast her beams so harshly that it seems as though the parties are serene?