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This vehicle has stopped. The engine's not that strong.

I've spent so long looking for a direction, I don't really give a fuck if I ever find it.

My right eye itches.

My left shoulder hurts.

My right wrist is scratched.

My left foot is asleep.

Good night.

(I always move in a western eastern direction, but not solidly. I sometimes write what I can't paint. I wish all of this was different(ly). I'd like to lose control.)

Synchronicity.

10:50 p.m. - 2003-05-27

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