Nor do I remember, a mastadons map held firmly.. beaming with nodes describing where limbs could be born.. turning and twisting into a recognizable elephant of sorts. I find it arrogant. To read theories of one author to find yourself on one poly solid piece. Lonely suddenly. Yet the pages flutter around you. The universe is color coded. Noted in scent and perfectly placed around you somehow. There really isnt anyone to thank except for yourself should you decide to be a grateful being. The sum of all your own thoughts. Thrilling really.
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