this is the edge. this is the night, the moment the clock flicks from one day to the next. these are the stopping points where no one ever stops - they merely pause. this is the gas station, the convenience store, the empty, the cold, the neon. this is a point in which identities are slipped between, slip out of pockets, lost. this is the lost and the found of the world, from which nothing is ever retrieved. if you come out, it will not be the same you.

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