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from whom you wake.
Seven ages, irrevocably set, stage not even in focus yet. Helices spun, the ropey artisan twists the whole dramatic structure. Frayed string, and knots, inaccurate measures, a life of misery / pleasure. Unturnable, the decision’s done. A flickering lightbulb, borderline blown. Awaken from these nightmare three, wiping eyes, are you free?
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