| Dear San Diego, Like it or not, we will always be all that we have left. No greater thing, arms stretched a titan, awaits the alarm. Twenty-four thousand miles deep – abyssal, cacophonous. Tell me when we reach the station, I’ll lie back a while and sleep. |






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Yes, I might taste a little of hemp & hot suace...
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violate violet
i have a thing for noses. you draw noses very well.
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