Of all the blogs in all the world, how did I end up here? I hitched a ride on the shoulders of a radical beast who plucks at my strings with erratic fingers. The beast the beast, I prostitute myself for the beast, for creativity. I want to read you. The dialect, the code, the smoke signals
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Doubt any of the library folk would be too interested in massive pics of bones. If I were there you could show me! :-/
You don't like sad songs at all, or just not today?
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