We don't know exactly what this is, you and I. But we are certain that it is something. There is intensity, medicine; you witch. It must be so to go so long without and then to be so soon within.
Rotten mouth, tame success, something to do with animals. They flock to you, those flocks. It is a gift and I am envious. Although I look at you, and you, you're envious, too. I cannot say I am not pleased.
Nothing contracts, but nothing expands. And we will zig-zag until one of us collapses.
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