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Excerpts from the journals of Esso Edren translated from the originals scratched by fingernail on marble stockpiles.

August 2010 Archives

The elegy of this gifted object bathe in gray dusk dirge and discontinued duration. This is not sad.
(untitled) on August 21, 2010 8:39 PM
We float in half-light high over uncertainty and trust nothing not even what the tree tops spell nor those spoonfuls Franz warned about.
Dawn on August 14, 2010 8:34 PM
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