Said to be the sundial of savages, the shadows where one can read the absence of the thing represented. Only during daylight of course.
The LIbrarian's Index Card just read, yours crumbled
"Well, love, it wasn't a good racer," an egg tapped on it's ricepaper ink lei line
It was one of the first pieces of narrative taken from someone's brain chatter, put on a piece of paper, and openly denied by a suppor...
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