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How art thou upon this morn, where grass is green and children born, where mothers weap and brothers mourn, the passing of their still-born... Tiredness flows around me, waves ebbing receeding. I allow them to encircle me the wish to write overcomes and I unheeding, plunge into the stream of language, of syntax. I allow it to carry me away, mine is the battle field, the words to enspire thoughts, ...
Tags:
hitler
i
return
world...

http://humanity911.livejournal.com/6100.html
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Published: 6 months ago (Fri, 16 Jan 2009 19:54:18 PST); 3041 bytes
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