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Hic Iacet Occam's Razor (LJi s8e9)
Dead air coalesced with the murder holes between farmed pines, their trunks deftly delving into a rich stygian loam. The small pulp spaces between each row allowed for only glimpses of the sun's gleam. An outlying fragrance of wood smoke softly permeated the windows and doors of the roomy vehicle. The apricot vault of the heaven rained a bright ( Read more... )