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Frequently Strange Chronicle Part 16

Seriously considering reaching for the flustered fingers when the way you know it feels fades away again. Further away from what you are staring at, not meant to know the distance between two apparent stranger's thoughts. When the somatic soul becomes alive between us again, the head will know reflections of it's own existence.

Erudites arrogantly assessed the plundering of playgrounds passionately. The rain falls down on all our roofs, the sun sinks into every one's pores equally. Quick to qualify every statement, ridiculous smug words reveals a rancorous rationality indicative of avarice.

Simultaneously all joy seeks portals of intended embrace. How much of the poison can one filter so that it can come through though, the sparkling splendor? We reap what we've sown as the chances fade. When the notes slow, when the colors glow, when the feeling shows, when the foot comes down through the roof it is not enough to be tired. 

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