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As I walked, the bee-tv showed me the sites of past, or future explosions.
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At the end of the day, every night on the desert floor, tiny worlds hidden and shiny in each of the grains of muddy dirt that make up the earth floor here all try to send out spaceships or radio beams, trying to make contact one with the other. Hopping across the picket fences of their local community, trying to find friends or fiends or food out there, among the muds. Just at this moment, it is day, not much is happening in the greater universe of the desert (at least in the direction we're looking), and all the little dust universes are asleep (protecting themselves from the light of our horrendous sun, too bright for us, and deadly for them).
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37:16
