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Writings : Lines
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It was written by the dead.
 


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Writings : Garden of Writing Writings : Lines Writings : Lines Writings : Lines Readings : Hazy Gaze Readings : Hazy Gaze Haze : Cloudy Forms
 
 
  

A chain of words, simple self-replicating machine, drags itself across Jacob's face, across his mouth, as if Jacob were the phonograph needle needed to play the song hidden in the sequence of twisted scribble. A song of hope.
 
 
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42:59

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