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werewolf
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like lights on a pier, pointing off to some imaginary union that can never happen of foreground and background. if you walk back towards them, something disappears, there is a new vanishing point with each stride, a pinhole that the universe spills through, at the edge of what it is you are capable of seeing. more and more of the darkness comes into view, clouds seem chane entirely as more depth is permitted. the water moves, we forget that light does as well, untill we see it being dodged, being looked at from close and far and close and far in the mad shifting second of an ocean. as we walk towards the light, their endlessness is forgotten, but there was something we could never catch, always another distance to traverse. and we become the vanishing point, with each step we take, advancing towards another, we cannot help but become, innocently or malevolently, someone else's horizon.
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021209
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