4am Sunday Morning. Writing under the artificial sunlight.

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

"So are you are shit machine?"

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The philosopher does not know the answer. He exists.

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

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

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