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Steps, footprints on the white snow. It doesn't matter who left the footprints; the bodies fade away, leaving behind only a vague idea. Voices remain that whisper in our heads, we call them thoughts. They too slowly disappear, leaving us feeling lost. We steal those of others. Erik Satie ~ Once Upon A Time In Paris (Artwork by Edouard Leon Cortes) They are becoming fewer, and everything slowly vanishes, disappearing into a white point marked by a deep C.
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