[a brief clip of a soaked young man, staring dumbly at the Square fountain, just... blinking. And blinking. And blinking. He finally speaks, slowly -]
Wet mulberry paper... a piece of cloth, charcoal, salt... forgive me, I've sullied -
[the whisper dies as he glances off to a flock of nearby pigeons; the video setting switches to text.]
...the
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[why are there voices in his head, why again, it's not Monday gdi ---]
[oh, the stalking box. Coo'.]
[tentatively]
Reasonably, thank you.
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If you're not sure, though, and you need some help, that's okay too.
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[thinking, thinking.]
May I have a moment?
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And asked after the pigeons. Those stupid things never stop getting fed.
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