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Among the untold dead, the commodity of illusion comes now close at hand. In the crystal gardens groomed with sacred rake and rock, the hallucinogenic happenstance stirs and quake. Put down the tired bodies and visualize – the winged ship, the flying serpent, the legend hunter. Whipped by the soaring inner-self, pushed out past the dusk-glow of the silent man’s bedchamber, hurtling like a bat beneath the bridge, looking for escape. The youth talkers stop to stare into the night of sound.

FNP


color polaroid