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
"Get off the stage bitch, you're crashing the conference." Squealing microphone. "We need the head of this confer...
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