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4am Sunday Morning. Writing under the artificial sunlight.

"You’d add ‘machine’ to whatever it makes."

"So are you are shit machine?"


The philosopher does not know the answer. He exists.


I fell asleep in the cinema after a long day of work – I was immune to explosions.


They are waiting for their turn to meet the doctor, who’d certify their existence.


Aesthetics does not reflect the truth. The truth does not require aesthetics.


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