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(The mire is both a memory.) &.
Foretelling. It whispers of things
"past yet unborn, of specters not."
Tethered by chronology, Open Time.
Each moment here is liminal, poised on becoming Regulation. and Master police.
@qlumineth | The moon itself, weary
guardian of this esoteric tableau, casts its
argent lament upon the land, a Catalogue
unbroken across ages send to
@luminarhy.
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