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He looks at his friends
and sees hungry lips that are
attached to hungry bodies. The mouths
calling out to someone saying that they
are blessed without compassion and that
the hills over the city are not as giant as
they used to be. The city is gone and the plains
have been morphed by the mountains, a man
with red hair and the head of a giant.
He has no sword, only words
and the words can tell that the world
is full of creation and there is creation in
their mouths, the taste of bread, painted
between their teeth.

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