most of our worlds knowledge and detritus, the soul grows numb
and sorrowful. It will not abate. It will grow and encroach further
and further until mind and body become enslaved to a master of
our own creation. The light of the spectacle will be too much for
us to ever look away. Even now, I sit transfixed by it. Gazing into
you, reality becomes a stream of information as experience is
washed away by the perverse voyeurism that has taken root in us.
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