once a month i look at the frozen land that stretches out into an empty distance from where
barely audible voices deliver nothing but a glimpse of a digitized future.

making out a sentence with a difference, shared with others, on sex:
he can hear the domestic chat, and a rating of sighs had him tapped for a surreal moment.

i guess the amount of rare metals that had been engineered into in her body. looking at her face i thought that i had a post-death fantasy,
in fact, there is a whole crowd these days. ink strikes the screen and we are 80% happy, quite remarkable.