N E O R E N A I S S A N C E
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technobabble
In the feisty might of our consciousness, we dream of places which may be grown and known, a place which we, may know as morning glories, places which may know us and mourn our well forgotten glory.
We are here seen, by the eyes of the mighty, questioned by that up there, the star born lightining. Seldom the hoards of inequity shall see the poisoned air and think their ill gnoll perhaps is lost, is the other left for loam?
