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typhoid
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spiraling downward, over lace.. down the beanstalk, ridding a bicycle over its double helix of giant plant matter.., you, my guide, are leading me into the abyss.. is this?.. this world is mine to do what i want with it.. it is tempting, but i decline. i want you, my guide, and all of the other worlds. mine is just the inside of some torus of space with thought as the only masterful force, but there is so much more i want control over.. not even control, integration.. how can one be part of everything and god at the same time? rework the definitions..
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000428
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