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Machina Mimesis (In The Corner Cafe)

Nothing less than the sound of footsteps

condensing into a shape.

Sneaking into the murky urban caf of crispy mornings.

Realized it was a mirror after hours of work. They are filth.

And also easily lost in the labyrinth of the theory of their

own art - this easily percepted. Within the 4 years

of rain it became my own microscopic Macondo. It all meant little, if

nothing What is the frase I look for... Chaotic Dementh.

Ah yes indeed. Been there before, fair lady? A Copper medal I won

at the chill-kill that day: Putrid Run, Salt... Torment,

Thirst. Two fierce feasting parties wishing me warmly welcome in

the aftermath of their own cold war. Neo-colonialistic freaks,

says I. Tempers increase to hatred and vanish - in cataleptic

disorders. An apparatus of something, don t really know what,

remnant of the good that succumbed in man once? The absolute

legion of oddity. Now guess what in the world machina mimesis is?

Machina Mimesis (In The Corner Cafe) /

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