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No one is walking after me
when I see an angel on the
brown walkway. I was out
of breath for chasing the
angel, but that was after five
minutes and I need to wrestle
him, then the blocks of light turn
into different things in my eye, into
pixels and segments of explosions,
dancing wolves ascending and descending
to the moon in black and white and
black and bombs on mansions in
smoke and halos.