The youth at night would have himself driven around the scream. It lay in the middle of the city gazing back at him with its heat and rosepools of flesh. Terrific lava shone on his soul. He would ride and stare.
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The youth at night would have himself driven around the scream. It lay in the middle of the city gazing back at him with its heat and rosepools of flesh. Terrific lava shone on his soul. He would ride and stare.
“They’re hypersensitive people, loyal servants to empathy, those tortured by that hunger for harmony I’ve already mentioned. Since reality is often harsh, they suffer a lot”
Jovanka Živanović