There is an idea of a Trevor Blackwell, some kind of abstraction, hut there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping you and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.
of course you probably know right where I pulled that from... but nothing ive ever read makes more sense.
of course you probably know right where I pulled that from... but nothing ive ever read makes more sense.
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i leave town and this is what happens....