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Ill, so ill and hallucinations.
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Nov. 22, 2001 ]
4:30 PM
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Floating in a daze, a cloud of purifying retching hunger. The cloy of the world slips away and you are left with the physique of a saint. Pale, pale, infinitesimally light, a grain weight of rice weighed down by a feather. The vertigo of being ill, the syncope of caffeine; tremours and shakes and a blurring of words on a page belies the clarity, we see, the skeins of the object woven in clarity blurs, you see it beneath a schism; a purification of light through paper; automatic writing.
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wax
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wane
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