a project of skill-less and dead-author labor turned dead-text turned dead-reader, love
affair with space, some cloud to influx information without regard for human eyes. &poetry
Monday, January 10, 2022
"how can I make an elf cry?"
she said we were beautiful
in a glow up of the screen (as making piece for her)
she said that we looked like Legolas. she said,
we are singular in memory and when she leaves, she just remembers that we cried.
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