• [email protected]@sh.itjust.works
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    1 year ago

    A figure in the background grumbles and contemplates, rhythmically plucking their feet from the ground. “My genius is the only thing holding this cultural wasteland together,” he thinks to himself. A sobbing boy is embraced by one person, then another and another, but the figure remains stationary aside from their comforting rhythm. “My genius is the only thing holding this cultural wasteland together,” he affirms aloud.