I came down to the pond, hoping to come across my reflection. The water was cold. A disembodied face closely approached, followed by a second, and then a third.There, no hand; here, no leg.Eyes still piercing, the gaze probing the unfathomable. Fulfilled sovereign in this crystalline liquid froze my senses. They communicated in silence. Only them. They know that the memory of yesterday is the reflection of a former day, while they plot and prepare, from birth to death, they envisage. They laugh at our tears and invent a world without human beings. Sitting on the spine of the cosmos, they ensure they are Amok.
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