a bus roared by on a NYC street and bailed a puddle of icy sludge onto the sidewalk, "IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT I am?" The woman's eyes held the sincerity of the question in between a police officer having his waist belt and weapons put into a brown paper sack and marked with his locker number.
Said to be the sundial of savages, the shadows where one can read the absence of the thing represented. Only during daylight of course.
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