[I FEAR I'VE BEGUN TO ROT AMONG THE STARS] the way her skin has turned a ghostly white, sluggish and weak as she haunts the lower halls. she's quite used to being tucked away in dark corners, hidden from the light for fear of what might be exposed. she doesn't often come across others down here, they know better by now, how the ones that stray tend to (...) lose their way.
❝ people who die normally stay in their graves. ❞ @print17 - FROM, CURRENTLY ACCEPTING.
the closed, running circuit of life has been stripped of it's off switch. with no beginning or end, they just keep on spinning. one recycled life after the next. ❝ i think we both know better than that by now. ❞ WHAT NUMBER HAS HE MADE IT TO? how much of the original is left?
❝ i don't think either you or i could be classified as 'normal'- ❞ the lightest chuckle to accompany her words, as melodic as it is haunting. ❝ or as people. . . really. ❞ at what point does one surpass the definition of personhood : 1.) HOW MANY REPRINTS before he could be considered someone something new? 2.) how long can she share the housing of her body before the entity outweighs june?
