Darkness now absorbs the souls of wizards. Everything squelched as if everyone forgot, or just left behind the existence of magic. Behold the light-source. Goddess of diamond, fragment all memory of trick. Hath thou no temptress mere mortal or bones and sinew, YOU! Tag out and ascend planes. Drain into a distain. Fall further into the digital of life. Soft copy me. Link the page. URL the IRL on every last DL. Where do I know you from? Are we competing?
And the it repeats, but in a backfire of succession. Dreams single-handedly pick apart the piece of garbage you take yourself for. Then a tattoo you never intended on getting. Something of a head scarf design. Potentially something you got in the 1990s. Scared by blade in scratchy lettering: Antifur. Behind the gaping throat falling to its knees is Paul Menska, beholding the power once again in Bardak:
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