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The drug addict cloud glares at me with the intensity of the flickering light bulb as I look up from my notepad. I will stay with my pencil, as long as the cue card allows me to. An occasional smear of white is always troublesome, making my opinions shiver in the draft like that. And the chrome can of knowledge seems to be at its last few drops these days. But, as they say, chrome is the color where righteousness fades, so I suppose that it makes sense that unless I’m blind, or ignorant, I’ll never get any further. Maybe I should try plastic instead.
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