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“Within my mind words become waste but the silence self-conscious; an impossible oubliette always held slightly apart. This snares my voice to great storms, things that don't apologise, the world that doesn't wait to strike.” — Ian William L.
Within my mind words become waste but the silence self-conscious; an impossible oubliette always held slightly apart. This snares my voice to great storms, things that don't apologise, the world that doesn't wait to strike.