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Finally, stability. Finally, the fractal iteration of kings. The legless herds lie still in the fields and eventually the fences crumble and the wilderness returns. Like cinnamon coaxed back out of the tongue, this book is a formalist approach for a kiss. Or vice versa. Like a kiss is oblivious, they don’t know their homestead is meat; is meat in an age of eternal iteration. Finally I have met you in this video of cyborgs making out, making out with androids in the comments below.