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Feeling very delicate today, like a single soft touch would break open my skin and let something ephemeral out, rising up to dance in the troposphere. A champagne-colored morning in the midst of a week of twisted iron. These are times when chains are loosened and sunlight moves through me unfettered. I dissipate into photons. I seek the stellar nurseries, I seek the celestial furnace. I am an Astrology of Lower Hymns.

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