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Imperfect



"Our parents are in Libya, or Dubai, or some other foreign paradise."

The corn fields of society sprawled out in front of me in a neon blue pulsating grid. The simplicity of faint LED read outs from imperfect FM radio waves gave me a sense of comfort only whiskey and a heap of a trashy brunette 90s girl hair in my face could augment. Society intelligent and clean. Equalized against over indulgence and patronizing glares.

- The Commodore

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