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February 5, 2007
traveller, i vote that your next stop should be the sun. perhaps you will burn up there, and never come back to earth. i can't explain the strange uneasiness that i recall, whenever you swing too close to my fraction of the world. you know nothing of really owning a place. you've never really seen anything for the first time, you are blind. i understand now that you are not timeless or a satellite, because every word i said to you was only mimiced by your mirror-like mouth. you don't know me traveller, you were born into ruins that you don't love.