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August 6, 2015
In turn, the wide swing back spins on a loop leading the searching eye to the center of the eye, where sight of sun defies the truth, obviates all that might keep the heart from beating in time to the beat of no time registered on a clock creaking for its age, looking for a knowing to gear what's left of rational assumptions of the grid that cannot and must not be violated, such is the crown of the matrix where nothing but everything is situated as reality befits the situations stitched as logic might demand to the gods.