pfffffffffff, the small apocalyptic feeling, the sisyfosiac hustle and pushing, the great curve, all in all counting, crawling through the retroport to 2009...
happy whatever in the year to come...
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...It`s snowing, the boy said. He looked at the sky. A single gray flake sifting down.He caught it in his hand and watched it expire there like the last host of christendom. (From Corman McCarthy, THE ROAD)
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