Time passes - even when it seems
impossible. even when each tick of the
second aches like the pulse of blood behind
a bruise. it passes unevenly, in strange
lunches and dragging lulls. but pass it does -even for me-
impossible. even when each tick of the
second aches like the pulse of blood behind
a bruise. it passes unevenly, in strange
lunches and dragging lulls. but pass it does -even for me-
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