Ink is spilled and wasted like wormed dog food.
Every stroke is embroiled onto nothing.
Another page is in the process of deformation.
Just one of my aborted masterpieces, you are.
Ascend, be guided.
We’re not going anywhere.
would have chosen Border Studies or something else, but I will write more about that later. The damn library's computers are about to shut down. In a minute and some seconds. ahhhh, rebel.